The Christmas Caper
by Viciously Witty
Summary: Boyfriend wanted. What do you do when you need a fake date to get your well meaning family off your back at Christmas? Place an ad on Craigslist. What do you do when the girl who ate the peach gives you the perfect opening? Seize it of course. The Goblin King is coming for Christmas. Glitter, goblins, gambits, and a generous dollop of groping ensues. **rating increased**
1. Boyfriend Wanted

**AN** **:** I don't know what this will be to be honest. A short Hallmark-esque movie fic with glitter and smut? It was born of a LFFL discussion on FB. I couldn't resist tackling the ad for a boyfriend trope. Expect lots of (hopefully fun) tropes actually. It's going to be on the lighter side, but I can't promise Jareth isn't going to fall into his usual deliciously ambiguous ways… in fact bank on that.

* * *

" _If my Valentine you won't be,  
_ _I'll hang myself on your Christmas tree."_

 ** _Ernest Hemingway_**

* * *

 _Boyfriend Wanted_.

Sarah canted her head at the screen, chewing the end of the pen she was inexplicably still holding despite typing on her computer.

She frowned and hit backspace. _Companion Wanted_. Better. She could explain her particular needs later but she didn't want the ad mistaken for a personal. Keep your kinks to yourself, dudes.

She didn't even want an actual boyfriend. She didn't need a boyfriend. She needed someone to _pretend_ to be one so she could survive Christmas with her liver intact.

After chewing some more on the now dented plastic, she inserted _Male_ as a preface _._ She wasn't adverse to a girlfriend per se, but inadvertently "coming out" to her parents would only bring more scrutiny, not less.

Definitely had to be generic. Someone generic. A ken doll in the flesh. Average height, average looks, decent job, and benign borderline-boring interests. Like… baseball and Civil War history. Something so forgettable and "normal" he'd be forgotten by New Year's if needed. Nothing offensive and nothing that made Karen begin buying wedding mags. A solid B boyfriend.

Sarah replaced the pen with a coffee mug and then grimaced. It was already cold.

It really shouldn't be so hard to create an ad for a fake boyfriend for Christmas. How was there not a dedicated service already available? It was 1999 for God's sake.

She mentally tallied her list of male friends and acquaintances again, double checking that she didn't already have a serviceable tool in her arsenal. Most had to be written off as already married, already divorced with too much baggage, gay and taken, or so close a friend that she couldn't easily get rid of them.

There was always Brett from the office, but he would absolutely consider it carte blanche to make the move he'd been so obviously dying to make since she'd started working for the same PR firm. That was a box of bleached blonde tips she did _not_ want to open.

A discreet ad with a paid contract was the superior way. She would be an employer. Strictly business.

It wasn't that she couldn't get a boyfriend, far from it, it was that she couldn't be bothered to deal with a significant other while she really focused on her career. She'd had plenty of dates and satisfying (and not so satisfying) trysts between the sheets when the interest struck, but nothing she could have brought home to her parents for over two years. Nothing that wouldn't get complicated when she wanted to go back to her heavily compartmentalized life in the New Year.

She glanced at the Christmas card from her parents.

"Hope you're bringing someone special home for the holidays. I've hung up extra mistletoe". Sarah scowled at Karen's elegant scrawl. Another variation of 'you should be dating at your age'. Beneath that her father had added in his lawyer-like chicken scratch, 'I keep tearing them down. Keep it PG! Lol.' Toby must have taught them that. Brat. She could imagine their gleeful faces as they wrote the card together.

It wasn't that they meant to badger her. It was that they assumed she needed someone to be happy. Or rather that she needed the same person. Everyday. They were just products of their generation. 2.5 kids and a picket fence. They were happy to brag about her successful career and point out her more popular campaigns, but they also wanted to show wedding pictures. Her dad wanted to make a slightly inebriated speech about being her first love and handing the reigns over, but add a warning about polishing his .22 or something 'fatherly' like that. As though the New England Yale alum had ever held anything other than a starting pistol. Having realized that Toby was firmly a teenager, Karen wanted to buy baby clothes again. She could get in some cuddles without the night feedings or diapers or colic. Toby was thirteen so he was safe for at least a decade or more. Twenty eight, almost twenty nine, year old Sarah was therefore firmly in her crosshairs.

If Sarah didn't want to be set up with half a dozen 'eligible' sons and nephews from Karen's social circle over the yuletide, she'd best bring her own proverbial beard home. Karen meant well, they'd become friends over the years, but she was still an old school matriarch intent on getting what she wanted. Sarah shuddered, remembering Jordan and his ' _come and see my brand new Camaro'_ from their summer anniversary party.

 _Payment in cash. Price negotiable. Serious inquiries only._

She added, _acting or relationship skills a bonus_. _Minor physical contact only._ She highlighted and underlined only _._

 _Age 30-45 preferred._ Nothing too young, nothing too old to make Karen _really_ push for the baby-making. _Food and travel expenses covered. Includes Christmas dinner, presents, and copious amounts of alcohol._ She added a few more details requesting business casual dress and a police records check if available.

She mulled the whole thing over twice and then posted to Craigslist with an email she'd created just for the responses: Peachchampion at Hotmail dot com.

If she played this right she figured she could buy at least another year of peace before 'things just didn't work out. We wanted different things.' Insert fake sob. 'I need some time to process.'

Sarah powered down her computer and stretched, feeling the sudden inexplicable optimism that 1999 was going to be the best Christmas yet, like a wish she knew would be fulfilled. Even the threat of Y2K couldn't dampen her spirits. The internet was a fabulous thing. Hell, maybe she would use her business acumen and PR skills to start a fake dating service online. God bless the internet and savvy independent women.

"Merry Christmas!" she toasted her cat, and then remembered with another grimace the coffee was still cold.

* * *

Bless 'the internet' indeed, thought the Goblin King, lounging back in his apartments with a half-smile.

He felt it the moment the thought had left her head. Not all wishes needed to be spoken aloud to be heard.

It was enough. Probably a very faint shade of grey, but come Christmastide the vale was ever so deliciously thin and maleable. If he squinted sideways and held his breath it would probably pass muster. Not like he'd ever followed the rules anyway.

Snapping his fingers, a brand new state of the art _something_ called an apple ibook appeared. The dark blue colour naturally. It looked nothing like an apple, Jareth thought frowning, but it would suffice. He logged into Craigslist, eyes only widening once or twice at what services people wanted… or worse, were offering.

 _Male companion wanted._

His lips twisted. _Peachchampion._ They formed a wide grin.

He tapped his sharp teeth thoughtfully. He was nothing if not a master strategist, thirteen years ago being the only let's-not-talk-about-it aberration. Answering it outright would prove futile. He'd be denied. Untrusted. Dismissed. He scanned the other ads. Half of them were frowned upon even in the underground. He could only imagine what kind of 'males' lurked about.

Dangerous kinds no doubt. Those with ill intentions. Not that his were particularly moral. No, leaving her ad up wouldn't do. He was really doing her a favour. A flick and it vanished.

But she had to get some answers or she'd try again. She was nothing if not persistant, that one. He had to place some pawns on the board first before making his move.

Hearing the distant din of Goblins squabbling, his plan fully formed. A few tweaks here and there. He wasn't used to playing the knight in shining armour but he was nothing if not inventive.

His hands flew over the keyboard sending reply after reply from various accounts. A Bob here. A Chad there. A David for good measure. He called for a handful of his rowdiest minions. They were without doubt the ugliest goblins ever spawned, but it was nothing a little magic couldn't cover.

And then he'd wait.

Wait before he sent _his_ answer. The final reply she'd receive.

Wait until she really had no choice but to accept. For good measure he began spamming one Karen Williams' inbox with just the most sickeningly sweet baby flyers he'd ever seen. Enough to make him nauseous. That ought to up the stakes.

…Alright. So perhaps not quite a knight in shining armour after all.

But better the devil you know, Sarah.

Better the devil you know.

* * *

 **AN:** Credit to Lynsey Allan (telcontarian) on FB for the idea and some spit-balling ideas from some of the other hilarious members. Several of the LFFLers are now doing a group fic on the same plot. It should be a hoot and will be posted once finished no doubt!

I have another idea for a much more "serious" Christmas fic based on the traditions of Soul Cakes. Probably set in Ireland. Not sure if I'll get to it as well, but hopefully. And hopefully another chapter of Tanglewood before the year's end. Let the festivities begin!


	2. Tastes like Chicken

"The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not smashing it."

 _ **Arnold H. Glasgow**_

* * *

Sarah couldn't pinpoint where things had gone wrong.

Wrong did not even remotely describe the situation adequately.

Disastrous. Terrible. Horrible. No Good. Very Bad. Day.

She'd expected her ad would garner its fair share of spam. A Nigerian prince here, a few ASLs there. How big are your tits? The usual emails. What she did not expect was to get none of those at all. Nothing. No sketchy attachments that made her virus detectors pop up. It didn't make sense. She'd once posted an ad for a table she wanted to sell and had very nearly salted and burned her dial up as a result. She'd prepared for the worst and instead had received a reasonable succession of completely normal and perfectly acceptable responses. Almost too good to be true.

As it turned out, it was.

After a few back and forths with each, she made arrangements to meet with them together. She decided a group interview was in her favour. Men were pack animals, always vying for dominance. Their true colours would come out if they thought they had to compete with one another. She was a genius.

After exchanging a few more emails back and forth, just to test the waters further, she was satisfied and invited all ten to her building. Her schedule was tight, and the agreed upon date was a little close to her departure for comfort, but she reasoned finding one suitable candidate and briefing him was still doable. She'd chosen her building because it had a bookable "conference room" that she decided was neutral territory. The lobby had a security desk and required all guests to be signed in and out with a photo ID. That was far more secure than any café and they still wouldn't have her apartment number. The conference room, which was more often than not used for parties on the weekends, was entirely glassed and could be seen from the front desk. It had automatic shutters if desired, but for Sarah's purposes, it was the best of both worlds. An armed witness who couldn't hear her interviewing for a fake boyfriend.

Sarah had dressed carefully on that Saturday morning. Making sure to look as average as possible. Stylish boat neck sweater – no cleavage – nice low rise jeans, leather knee boots. I am not planning to seduce you, or be seduced, makeup. She even brought her cat, deciding that their reaction to the feline would be another judge of character. She reasoned she was bringing hers and week wouldn't work with allergies. Karen would gladly offer to pay to kennel it so it wasn't a viable excuse to bow out.

And the fact of the matter was, she _wanted_ to see her family. She just didn't want to be harangued about starting her own.

She watched through the glass as the first guy arrived. Not bad. Medium height. Sandy brown hair, thinning, but not bald. He'd lied about his height but she wasn't planning on dating him anyway. He was just attractive enough to be believable, she had standards after all, without being even remotely swoon worthy. A promising start.

The other nine arrived in a steady succession – all punctual and all falling within the spectrum of what she was looking for. Her own army of B grade actors.

She welcomed them into the room and indicated they could help themselves to the coffee she'd prepared and the scones she'd bought. At the very least she could feed them for their troubles.

For the first few minutes everything seemed fine. Better than fine in fact. They didn't seem at all bothered by one another. No alpha jock behaviour. Brief pleasantries were exchanged. Sarah jotted a few notes on a pad she'd thought to bring.

And then everything went to hell.

After outlining her needs, reiterating it was fake – no romance required, she'd asked about interests, planning to strike off any who shared something in common with her father or Karen.

They _all_ looked confused by the question.

"Um… Chickens?" answered one finally. He was.. Charles, she thought. Odd, but still workable.

"Oh. So… do you farm them?"

"I pet them."

Sarah's brow furrowed.

"Pet… them?"

The man nodded thoughtfully. "And play with them. Brush them. Lick them-"

Sarah paused in her note taking, holding up a thoroughly chewed pen. "I'm sorry, did you say lick them?"

"I like chickens too," another interrupted. "Put me down for a chicken."

"Me too."

"Me four."

"Three's next, you idiot!"

"Four chickens is better than three if she'd giving them out!"

Sarah looked up and blinked incredulously at the bland faces arguing before her. "Wait… so you ALL like chickens?"

Ten affirmatives.

"Do you… all know each other?" She began to fear she was going to be recruited into a chicken cult.

"No." Ten heads nodded in chorus. One, having finished his scone, sniffed and then stuffed the napkin in his mouth.

"Right…" She wondering how best to shut the whole thing down immediately.

"So where are the chickens?" Asked the napkin eater.

"Well I…" Sarah trailed off as a few things happened at once. Her cat, Peaches, jumped down from the ledge it had been asleep on. She'd almost forgotten she'd brought him for the interview-turned-chicken-lovers-meeting.

Bob, she was pretty sure, jumped up and growled.

Not used to being growled at by humans, Peaches looked understandably confused.

"You don't like cats?"

Bob made a rude motion with this hands that was known both above and below ground. "My sworn enemy," he hissed in a voice that sounded more beast than man.

Peaches blinked and began licking himself.

The other candidates all seemed equally disturbed by the 7lbs of fluff in the room. One of them even fainted.

Sarah jolted out of her chair in concern. "Is he alright?"

"Probably dead," another shrugged indifferently. "Always was deathly afraid."

"Dead?" she mouthed, beginning to wonder where exactly she had gone wrong. She didn't have time to do more than fret before she heard a cacophony of snarls and growls and hisses.

She spun. One of the men, she'd lost track of who was who, looked like he was trying to unhinge his jaw – and failing – so he could swallow her understandably now thoroughly pissed off cat.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked in outrage.

The man had the grace to look embarrassed. "Er… eating cat?"

Sarah snatched the offended feline back. "Why are you trying to eat my cat, you absolute monster?"

"Not monster, man," he corrected proudly, gesturing at himself like he was wearing a very nice new suit. "Cats eat chickens. Cats bad."

Sarah began to suspect that he'd suffered a head injury of some sort or perhaps was mentally delayed. She caught the eye of the security officer who was staring at them open-mouthed form across the lobby. He pulled a newspaper up but she could still see him peeking over the top.

The internet was the absolute worst.

It was just porn and cat memes. And apparently crazy chicken lovers who wanted to eat cats.

"I think it's time for you ALL to leave," she said firmly, her voice quaking just ever so slightly. There were a few grumbles of protest, mostly at the lack of promised chickens, but every man stood and began shuffling towards the door. She motioned to the security guard who'd given up all pretense of not watching the daytime drama. He nodded and began signing them all out.

Sarah was already on the elevator by the time they'd filed out. She therefore completely missed the shift in their appearances as soon as the revolving doors spun - taking in a group of average looking men and spitting out a horde of anything but average goblins. They disappeared with a 'pop' before more than the odd pigeon had a chance to react.

Sarah collapsed against her door as soon as she'd shut and locked it. She filled Peaches' bowl in apology. He gave her a look that suggested more than a tin of white tuna was required to correct the slight against his person.

The calendar on her fridge was impossible to ignore.

She was leaving for home in two days. Two days and the onslaught would begin. Her entire Christmas bonus had been set aside to pay for peace. A Christmas gift to herself.

She logged into her email.

Five emails from Karen. One just had the subject line, "cutest baby names". Her head hit her desk. It was going to be worse than she thought. Curse Toby for setting them up with accounts.

And then a ping.

She tilted her head and looked up with one eye.

It was another answer to her ad. Garrett Kendrick was the sender.

She clicked to open and scanned. Sounded normal enough but so had the others. He provided an exemplary police records check, noted that he didn't have a recent picture but would be happy to present himself in person. Explained that he was new to the area and didn't have anywhere to go for Christmas. Said he was happy to negotiate the rate, but that he didn't really need the money and was looking more for new experiences and was intrigued by her strange request. He asked to meet in person.

Sarah shuddered and then noticed her phone was flashing. The machine indicated three missed calls. All from home. She deleted them unheard and wrote one line in response.

"Do you like chickens?"

Send.

Almost immediately a response pinged back. "Can't stand them. Why?"

Sarah's lips twitched. She debated about choosing a café or restaurant. Glancing outside her window she saw the weather was turning nastier. She wrote back asking if he'd mind doing the interview over the phone. She provided her number. She added that she'd already had several successful interviews but was keeping her options open.

A few minutes later an email popped up asking if the interview wasn't better in person. He said he'd tried calling already. Sarah realized that she'd forgotten to disconnect from the internet. He noted his location and said he was willing to brave the cold. Realizing it was right around the corner she agreed, telling him she'd meet him in the lobby. She hoped the security guard enjoyed his double feature.

She was still tidying her appearance when her phone rang a scant few minutes later.

"Hello?"

"Peach Champion I presume?" the voice drawled. It was as smooth as velvet. "Garrett. Just calling to say there is no need to trouble yourself coming down. The man at the desk gave me your address. I'm on my up as we speak."

Sarah frowned. That was a huge violation of policy. Before she could say anything in response, he'd hung up.

She panicked. The fact that he called her en route meant he had a cell phone. Which meant he had money at least. Unless it was stolen. Unless he was a murderer who'd stolen it from his last victim.

Relax, Sarah.

 _Rap, Rap, Rap._

Sarah yelped and stared at the door like it was about to burst open.

She took a calming breath and went to it, her hand stilling on the knob. She peered through the peephole. A handsome, but not too handsome, man in his thirties was waiting patiently. No weapons that she could see. He looked normal enough. His face matched his PRC at least. She'd talk to the security guard later.

She relaxed marginally and opened the door with the chain still hooked.

"I said I'd meet you in the lobby."

The man immediately looked uncomfortable. "Oh I'm sorry. I can see how this is very presumptuous. The gentleman at the desk told me to go straight up. Said you'd had a rough morning. I can just go back down if you'd prefer. Perhaps this was a mistake. You said you had other people in mind anyway."

Sarah's brow creased. He looked embarrassed and had already turned to leave. From the living room her phone rang. "No, no, it's okay. You're here now. Sorry to be rude. It's just… nevermind. Security is not usually so lax. Took me off guard. Come in." She closed the door, unhooked the chain, and pulled it open to the Goblin King himself.

Her face blanched.

"Hello, Sarah," he grinned.

* * *

 **AN:** *drums fingers together* and so it begins.

Another shout out to Nicole Schatten for the idea to use chicken love in this. Poor Sarah. Poor Peaches.

Thank you for the love this bit of… whatever this is... is getting. You guys are golden. It's definitely going to be a borderline crack fic. With smut. Assuming Sarah doesn't kill the GK first. Rating to increase accordingly. And for those of you who jokingly (or not so jokingly) pointed out I should be working on Tanglewood… you are absolutely correct


	3. Too Late Now

" _The only dependable law of life – everything is always worse than you thought it was going to be."_

 _ **Dorothy Parker**_

* * *

Sarah shut the door.

It wasn't even deliberate, it was just a kneejerk reaction.

After a moment a throat cleared loudly from the other side.

She opened it.

Definitely still the Goblin King.

She closed it again by rote.

On the third attempt a gloved hand shot out and kept the door open. "I believe you _already_ invited me in."

Sarah stared after him owlishly as he strode past her into her home.

What do you even say to a creature of childhood fantasy after a thirteen absence? One she'd been pretty sure she'd made up. One who was apparently not satisfied with being make believe, and was instead in her apartment. In the flesh.

What she wanted to say was something pithy. Even just a "now is not a good time. Thank you for coming though. Perhaps we can do lunch another time."

What she actually said was, "uh… mphlerr," as her tongue tied itself in knots.

She ducked into her kitchen, a hand reaching out to steady herself on the counter. She peeked around the corner.

He winked at her provokingly, evidently enjoyed her refreshing loss of the right words.

Sarah immediately poured herself a generous glass of wine.

After taking a few yoga style breaths to relax herself, she marched purposefully into the living room.

"I assure you, there's no need to get me drunk, Sarah." He was lounged on her sofa, one arm thrown across the back. Long legs stretched before him. Pants tight as ever.

Sarah faltered and took a very large sip of wine. "It's for me." She glanced at him and then took another, almost draining the glass. _You're on your own after all, liver._

"I'm fine, thank you, none for me."

She coughed, spluttering just enough to be embarrassing and sank into a chair.

Onto her dozing cat…

Who'd understandably not had a very good day and had reached his final straw. He promptly sheathed his claws knuckle deep into Sarah's jean-clad arse.

"Mother Fu-" Sarah howled in pain, "Peaches!"

The Goblin smiled beatifically. "Your feline's name is Peaches?"

"Right now it's little shit," she said rubbing her stinging rear, "but…" she trailed off at his expression. "He's ginger coloured. That's it."

"As you say… Peach champion."

"Why exactly are you here? I don't recall wishing away any brothers." It was half desperation to change the subject, half curiosity at his sudden reappearance after 13 years of nothing.

" _Male Companion Wanted_ I believe was the ad."

Sarah blinked. "But how… you have a computer?"

The Goblin King nodded. "Something called an iBook? By apple or Mac something such. I assure you either way it is not edible in the least." Thankfully. Goblins were a voracious lot.

She blinked again. "You have a _nicer_ computer than me."

"You placed an ad. I answered it. I had no idea this was how mortals found themselves romantic partners. So prosaic. So lacking in romance. So… desperate," he finished with relish.

"Romance has nothing to do with it," Sarah replied sharply. "Fake boy… companion. It's how successful women pushing thirty keep meddlesome stepmothers and well-meaning fathers at bay."

"So you _are_ desperate."

She eyed him coolly. "Not this desperate."

Jareth nodded thoughtfully, completely unfazed. "Naturally. You did say you'd had other options when you _invited_ me here."

"I invited Garrett what's his name here. You lied."

The Goblin King feigned insult. "I most certainly did not lie. Garrett is a name I've used above ground before. Our kind have many names or did you think I only answer to Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be…"

"It was a lie of omission then!"

Jareth shot her a withering look. "I _am_ new to the area. I _do not_ have anywhere particular to be for yuletide. I _do not_ need the money. I _am always_ looking for new experiences, and I was, most thoroughly _intrigued_ by your request. Not one lie."

Sarah ran a hand through her hair fretfully. "And I suppose you truthfully also don't like chickens?"

"Absolutely loathe them."

There was something in his tone, a nagging sense that beneath it all he was laughing that finally made it all click. "Oh my god… Bob, and the rest. The chicken licker…"

Jareth pretended to find her wall art interesting, but he couldn't stop the small smile from dancing about his mouth.

"You complete bastard. Goblins?"

The smile widened.

"One tried to eat my cat!"

"Judging by the fact you still can't sit down comfortably, I'd say he was unsuccessful."

She considered again the lack of spam. The reasonable sounding emails. The unmitigated disaster that followed. "Is my ad even up anymore? Was it ever up?"

The Goblin King had the grace to look guilty, though not in the least remorseful.

Sarah was seething. "Is this some kind of revenge… fuckery? A way to ruin my Christmas? Eat my cat?"

"I assure you this is not about revenge. I have no intention of ruining your Christmas, and your cat is not the kind of puss-"

Before he could finish Sarah had whipped a throw cushion at his head. He caught it deftly and settled it behind him like she'd done him a favour.

"Do. Not. Say. It."

"Consider this a truce, Sarah. You need someone to bring home for the familial festivities. You _wished_ – in so many words," he added hastily when she looked ready to throw something more substantial. "And I most generously answered."

Sarah stared at him incredulously. "You want to come home with me for Christmas."

The Goblin King inclined his head.

"Why?"

"I have my reasons. Perhaps I'll tell you some day. For now know that I am merely fulfilling your wish for old time's sake. No catch."

She couldn't help but look him over again, noting every exquisite feature that was completely out of place in her world. "You… I can't bring _you_ home." There were so many reasons that was true. The tight pants featured more than once on the list.

Jareth flashed her a winning smile. "How about now?"

Gone were the elvish features, the kohled eyes, and the wild hair. Instead sat a man in a well-tailored suit. His sandy blond hair was short and neatly styled. His eyes were still just a little strange, but not inhuman. He even had a light dusting of facial hair, just the touch of well-manicured scruff Sarah had always found immensely appealing. He wasn't Garrett – the affably non-descript man from the keyhole - he was somehow still the Goblin King and yet different. Muted. He adjusted a cufflink with a smirk at her expression.

"I… you're still too… too… not average," she finished lamely. She expressly had not wanted swoon worthy.

"I'm afraid I can only dim myself so much, Sarah. It's magic not a miracle."

Sarah rolled her eyes but then stilled when he rose, approaching her with an even gait.

"Let's speak plainly shall we? I fit the bill in every way. You only need admit it."

"Well…"

"I even like children. You did write that was a bonus?"

"Stealing them doesn't count as liking. And I was thinking of getting along with my brother. He's not really a child anymore…" Sarah trailed off. "Toby! Is this all just about taking Toby back?"

"I can assure you, Sarah, I have no interest in taking your brother," he replied smoothly. "Another truth." She was strangely relieved on more levels than she was willing to admit.

She chewed her lip. "And you promise not to try and ruin Christmas?"

The not-Goblin King tsk'd. "Yuletide is sacred, Sarah. It's a time of pure magic. I would never try and tarnish the spirit."

"Not tarnish it like sending a pack of chicken licking, cat eating goblins?"

" _Attempted_ cat-eating. I will own the chicken licking does happen and it is every bit as disgusting as it sounds. You would really be doing me a favour by removing me from that feather-filled environment for a holiday away."

She gaped at him. "I can't believe I am even considering saying yes."

"Do you have an alternative?"

"No thanks to you."

Jareth looked absolutely gleeful.

"You're not behaving at all as I expected."

He looked surprised. "What exactly did you expect?"

"I don't know… threats? Anger?" Heated looks and other things she did NOT want to mention.

He leaned in, enough that she noticed he smelled good. Very good in fact. "Should I be angry that you destroyed my kingdom, rejected my… gifts, and then disappeared without ever sending a card?"

"Erm… no?"

He retreated, holding out one gloved hand between them. "Then shall we call this a truce."

Dangerous. Insanity. Self-Destructive. Crazy. Those were all words Sarah wanted to call it. What she did was reluctantly take his offer. His long fingers wrapped around hers and she told herself that she shivered because her apartment was cold.

"I'm still mad about the goblins."

"Well, they're still mad about their destroyed homes so perhaps we'll call it even? Now then, Sarah mine, when do we leave?"

She couldn't quite believe what she'd agreed to. His cat in the cream pot expression wasn't helping. "Oh god."

"Do call me, Jareth, dearest. We are dating after all."

* * *

Packing her bag the next day, Sarah began to have a change of heart. She'd managed to shuffle the not-Goblin King out of her apartment shortly after agreeing to the terrible-no-good-very-bad idea. It hadn't helped that he kept flashing her victorious looking smiles, like he'd just won something more substantive than a dry turkey dinner and Boney M in stereo for a week.

And now she found herself wondering what to pack. What outfits to bring. Fancy or not fancy. Which shoes to wear. Things she always worried about at the start of a potential relationship. Which this wasn't. Things she'd not have cared about if she'd found a complete stranger to bring along.

Instead she vacillated between being still rather pissed off at his machinations and desperately curious about why he'd forced his way back into her life. She didn't trust him. At all. But she couldn't help being just a little charmed by it all – not that would ever admit it. She might not be wide-eyed and fifteen anymore, but he hadn't lost of the art of leaving her just a little off kilter. Just a little tempted. By what, she wasn't even sure. She wasn't sure she liked feeling so out of control.

Panicking, she'd called home to say she wasn't bringing anyone home after all. The conversation had gone about as well as her interview.

Her father had asked in a voice that dropped to a whisper, "lesbian? Not that there is anything wrong with that, sweetie."

Karen had choked back a dramatic sob, but then rallied and began rhyming off all the odds and sods who would also be home for Christmas. Chad, Chet, Brent, Brett, Brian… Jordan. Sarah at one point, put the phone down and started painting her nails.

And then Toby had gotten the phone. That had been the clincher.

"Hey." It was the apathetic existential drone of a teenager.

"Hey kiddo. Are you excited for Christmas?"

"Whatever." And then a long pause, his voice changing just a little. "Did you know I am the lead in the Christmas pageant this year?"

She hadn't. She wasn't surprised however. Toby had shown surprising aptitude for music, both dancing and singing, but in particular his vocals." The voice of an angel they all said. Like it was in his blood, despite the fact that the Williams were notoriously tone-deaf. And despite his desire to play the disaffected Goth kid who lived on Coke and video games, he couldn't resist the pull. She knew he'd eventually parcel it into something that garnered a gaggle of girls melting at his feet, but he hadn't yet unlocked that power. She didn't think he was yet aware it even existed.

"Mom is making me do it. I don't want to." Sarah could tell that was only a partial truth. "She's invited literally everyone. So it's… ah cool that you're coming home with someone. It's all they've been talking about. Means everyone will leave me alone for a little while."

She could hear the relief in his voice and realised that Toby was relying on her in the same way she'd been hoping to rely on a fake boyfriend. The sliver of optimism in his voice was like a weight that settled on Sarah instead.

She swallowed thickly. "Of course I'm bringing someone home! I'm so excited for you all to meet him!"

The sounds of a scuffle followed, the receiver hitting the floor once, and then Karen's booming voice made Sarah thrust the phone away from her ear. "I KNEW IT!"

Her dad chirped in from a distance. "You old kidder. December fools on us! Lol." He spelled it. L-O-L.

Sarah hung up and finished all the wine in her fridge while she packed.

* * *

The next morning she stood by her car, breath puffing in the cold air. Her cat eyed her morosely from inside the carrier.

He was fashionably late. And by fashionably late, she meant he starting to piss her off.

A gloved hand touched her elbow, making her jump.

The not-Goblin King, dressed in a long black pea coat grinned back at her. He carried a small leather satchel and looked like something out of a sleek European fashion mag. He didn't apologize even after Sarah made a show of checking her wrist watch.

Jareth appraised the small car. "You know I could just." He motioned a circle with this his fingers.

"Thanks. No magic. It's a four hour drive, maybe longer depending on the roads. I literally just called to say when I was leaving," she pointedly looked at her watch again, "so there would be questions I _really_ don't want to answer if we suddenly poofed to the front door."

"There would be no poofing," Jareth looked incredibly offended at the word. "But as you wish." He reached around her, brushing far too close for comfort – he still smelled far too good, and opened the door for her. "Four hours to get to know one another."

"Stop that." She meant everything. Stop being nice. Stop smelling good. Stop pretending to be harmless. She had a preconceived notion of how he was supposed to act and she very much wanted him to stay in that box. Sarah plopped the cat carrier into the back seat, and motioned for him to add his bag.

When they were both inside, with the heater comfortably turned up, Sarah mentally asked herself again why she'd agreed to the caper.

"Too late now," drawled the Goblin King, as though he'd gleaned her thoughts perfectly.

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks for all the love!

And just to be clear, I take all comments teasing about Tanglewood in the lovely and rightfully ribbing spirit they are written. I was not complaining! I think its hilarious (and deserved) and a compliment really. You really are the best readers ever.


	4. Road Trip

" _A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it."_

 _ **Jean de la Fontaine**_

* * *

They had left the city limits and merged onto the slow slog of the holiday-packed highway before Jareth spoke again, breaking the mildly uncomfortable silence.

For his part the Goblin King had seemed rather innocently intrigued by the automobile, playing with the nobs and music settings until Sarah had finally slapped his hands away.

Queen had just come on the radio and he seemed rather taken by the music, so he let her.

"If I am to understand the terms of the deal, you are bringing home a fake boyfriend because your parents want you to settle down?"

Sarah, still on edge, glanced sideways and nodded.

"And you're hiring one because you lack a real one."

The sound of teeth gritting. "At the moment. But ultimately this is just easier." She eyed him again. "Or it would have been had I been able to hire some out of work actor who needed the money."

"Bringing home a king is a rather tremendous improvement then."

"Tremendous is not the word I'd use. Neither is improvement."

"Are you always this cheerful around the holidays?"

Sarah sighed. "Sorry. It's just this year I anticipate even more not so gentle hints that what my parents would really like for Christmas is a baby."

Jareth peered in the backseat at the pile of brightly wrapped presents.

"Your questionable child care skills aside, I am going to assume there is no infant in those boxes."

"Very funny." She shrugged. "They'll get used to disappointment." Another long suffering sigh followed because they wouldn't.

"It's not easier to give them what they want?"

Sarah's brows furrowed."What a baby? Those aren't exactly available at Macy's. And I am not having a baby just to shut them up."

Jareth smiled, managing to look entirely like the Goblin King again despite his veneer of normalcy. "I didn't say it had to you yours."

Sarah's face cracked in disbelief. "I am NOT stealing a child."

"Borrowing really. And if you insist I suppose I could be convinced to make one the old fashioned way."

She kept staring at him, her mouth dropping open further.

He reached out and nudged the steering wheel to keep them in their lane. "Eyes on the road, Sarah, unless your plan is to commit regicide."

She swatted him away and blew out a frustrated breath. "Tempting. The regicide," she specified when he looked like he might say more. "Let me make this clear: No baby stealing. No baby making."

"Scrooge."

They lapsed back into a moderately uncomfortable silence until Sarah pulled off the road to get a coffee. Feeling magnanimous she grudgingly offered him one too.

She stretched before getting back into her seat.

"Shall I drive for a bit?"

Sarah looked up in surprise. "You know how to drive?"

"No." He gestured around the rest stop. "But it can hardly be difficult if all these simple mortals can manage it."

An older woman getting into the car next to them did a double take.

"Get. In."

* * *

The weather was turning colder, the snow getting thicker and falling faster. Sarah turned her lights on and increased the wipers.

"You haven't asked about your little friends." The last word was said a touch distastefully.

She shot him a curious look.

"Oh, I assure you they are all intact. Despite their gross act of treason."

The guilt of not having spoken to them in so long filled her with dread. "Not bogged?"

"I can be generous." He didn't add reluctantly - that the sole thing that had spared them had been her very friendship with them in the first place. He didn't suppose she would receive their heads on a spike well.

"They often speak of you," he added coyly. "And something about a game of Scrabble?"

"Oh," Sarah replied in a small voice. "I did promise." Over the years she'd thought of them less and less but his sudden mention made it all rush back. Perhaps coupled with the timing of driving home to where it had all started, and the magic of the season made her feel a stinging pang of loss. "I miss them too."

Jareth's lips curled.

Eager to change the subject, Sarah sat up straighter. "Hopefully this weather doesn't get worse. I don't want to have to pull over."

"Oh, I don't know, stuck in a blizzard has a touch of romance. Cabin in the woods. Snowed in. Roaring fire."

Sarah snorted. "That sounds like a bad romance." One she would probably admittedly read.

"No, as you've made clear, it's a fake one. I suppose we ought to get our stories straight then. I _could_ just be myself."

Sarah sipped the rest stop coffee and grimaced at the acrid taste. "Anything but, thanks. Just be Garrett whatshisname."

"The fact that you have to pay for companionship is starting to make sense," he remarked dryly.

Sarah bristled. "I don't have to pay for companionship, thank you very much. I'm making my vacation as stress free as possible. I'm bringing someone nice but suitably boring home to make my father and Karen happy."

"So nice and boring don't make you happy?"

Sarah caught the change in his tone, but answered honestly. "Not especially no." Their eyes met again and Sarah was struck by the notion that he rather liked her answer. Too much. She looked away quickly, her hands tightening on the wheel. "This is a one off thing. We'll call it off sometime into the New Year."

"That doesn't sound particularly believable."

"How so? Happens all the time. People drift apart. Relationships end."

"Perhaps, but I think Garrett "whatshisface" is the sort that wouldn't you slip through his fingers. Certainly not more than once."

The car was suddenly too small. And too warm. Sarah swallowed. "Garrett is exactly the type of nice guy who would."

"Perhaps. It's a good thing that I'm not Garrett then, as you so generously pointed out."

Definitely too warm. "Fine. Be you. Just… be less you. I don't know, you work in…"

A brow arched. "Child care?"

"No child care. Don't mention kids, don't look at kids, and definitely don't steal any kids."

Jareth managed to look affronted. "I have never stolen a child in my life."

Sarah ignored him. "You work in… sales. Just say sales."

"And what pray tell do I sell? My services to desperate young women?"

Sarah's coffee spluttered over the steering wheel. "Just try not to talk. The less said the better."

"And how did you gain my affections? What tender professions of love did you offer?"

" _No_ t love. Don't you dare even breathe the 'l' word while we're there." The thought of Karen hinting at a January wedding began to give her heart palpitations. She eyed him pointedly. "And _you_ pursued me."

"And how did I win you?" There was something in the way he said win that made Sarah squirm just a little.

"By… just being normal." She waved a hand indifferently. "Nice."

"All those things you have no interest in."

She knew he was making a point without saying it but she refused to play along. "It's a good thing it's all pretend then."

The Goblin King smiled. "As you say."

Sarah looked away. Happy for a change that the heavy snowfall meant she had to keep her focus on the roads. "We met at a… a Hallowe'en party."

"Ah, a traditional Samhain celebration."

"Sure – exactly."

"Complete with the ritual orgy."

The car hit ice, or at least that is what she'd claim later.

" _No_ orgies."

"Too forward on a first date?"

She could hear the teasing in his tone. "You're enjoying this," she accused.

Jareth laughed outright, his voice still far too velvety for the small space. "You have no idea."

Sarah managed to get a few more words of serious planning in, giving them both a decent back story that should pass mild scrutiny. Met at a Hallowe'en party. _NO_ orgies. Started dating casually, gradually got more serious. Mutual interest in Renaissance art, Sarah assured him that neither Karen nor her father would ask them a thing about it. He works in sales, Sarah told him to mention technology so that both parents would be terrified to ask more. He went to a good school, but not a great school – something her father would have been interested in. Only child, so no need to speak about brothers or sisters, etc., etc.

She was starting to feel marginally more relaxed about the whole affair when they hit the toll booth.

Sarah realised she'd spent all the change on the coffees and was rifling through her purse in a panic when they pulled up to the window. She couldn't find her credit card either.

The attendant made a sound of pronounced impatience. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to pull out of line."

Jareth, who'd been blessedly quiet after they'd established their mutual history frowned. He leaned over the frazzled Sarah to speak in a low tone. "That's not really necessary is it?"

The man frowned back, opened his mouth to respond, and then his face just smoothed into a serene expression of bliss.

"Not necessary in the least. Carry on."

The Goblin King nodded. "Happy Yuletide."

The attendant's head bobbed back. "Happy Yuletide."

Sarah stared between the two and only accelerated when the car behind her honked. "You just… you just Obi Wan Kenobi'd him!"

The Goblin king sat back, adjusting his coat. "I assure you, Sarah, I have no idea what that means."

"You… you never mind." She chewed her lip. "Don't do that again."

"You're welcome."

"Thank you," she said a little sheepishly. "But don't do that again." Unless you can make Karen not want grandkids for a few more years. Too risky. "Just… just don't."

The Goblin King smiled innocently. "Do what?"

They were still arguing about it when they finally pulled up to her childhood home. Sarah turned the engine off gratefully. She hated driving for long stretches. Being a passenger was fine but being so focused for so long was taxing. She was happy the roads had remained driveable despite the weather.

Sarah pulled her cat out of the back seat, and then paused, eyes taking in the not-Goblin King.

About to enter her house. With her family.

It wasn't too late to back out, she panicked, looking back at the Victorian. Catching her expression, he spread his hands. "Best behaviour. I'll get the bags."

She bit her lip and then nodded. It hadn't been the worst car ride really. He'd been distracting but engaging. It was still rather surreal really. Bringing the Goblin King home for Christmas. Although other than the toll booth, he hadn't done anything too inhuman.

She glanced back and nearly dropped the carrier.

He was following behind her, hands folded in his pockets as their suitcases and the presents floated alongside him.

"Jareth!" she screeched. The not-Goblin King looked immediately pleased. It was the first time she'd ever called him by his name.

"Sarah!"

She turned helplessly at the affectionate squeal from Karen, who stood in the now open door, her father beaming alongside her.

When she turned back around in a panic, Jareth was standing behind her, his arms laden with bags and presents.

"And you must be…" Karen motioned for them to come up the stairs.

"Call me, Jareth," he said smoothly, flashing her step mother a devastating smile that made all the panic come rushing back to Sarah.

"Here let me get those!" Sarah's father reached out and clumsily managed to whisk the parcels out of Jareth's arms.

A moment later Sarah felt a hand settle on her lower back.

"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Williams."

Karen tittered in a way Sarah had never seen before.

"Oh, do call me Karen. We're practically family." She shot Sarah an overt look of wagging approval that made Sarah want to start the car, put it in reverse, and drive right into that first snowbank.

Peaches was also pulled her from her hand, as both she and Jareth were practically dragged into the doorway. The not-Goblin King's arm still encircled her waist in a way that was entirely impossible to ignore. She would most certainly have to go over the "minimal contact" clause again. This was a business arrangement, nothing more.

Sarah was about to move away to hug her parents when her father motioned her to stay put and winked. Karen giggled. Actually giggled. Like she wasn't a grown woman in her early fifties.

Sarah looked confused until her father winked again, his expression strangely indulgent, and Karen motioned upwards with a well-manicured hand.

Mistletoe.

Right above their heads.

Confusion turned to panic. Definitely should have hit that snowbank.

Sarah glanced sideways, hoping mistletoe was a uniquely aboveground tradition.

The slow grin suggested he knew _exactly_ what the cluster of small berries meant. The splayed hand at her back tugged.

* * *

 **AN:** Oh wow, mistletoe. What a surprise. I am certain no one could have expected that to happen. How did that get there?

It would also be a shame if *author darts eyes* there weren't enough beds in the house.


	5. Fortune and Fate

" _Fate will come looking for you. Don't bother hiding"_

 _ **Lauren Bjorkman, Miss Fortune Cookie**_

* * *

Sarah felt like she was once again presented with two, no good, very bad options. Left or Right. Red or blue. Up or Down.

"Actually," she forced a fake cough, "I've got a cold."

Karen's face fell. Her dad looked awkwardly at the floor and rubbed his neck.

Jareth merely smiled. "Indeed. But as I gave it to her, fair is fair."

To say that Sarah was surprised to find herself sharing a first kiss with the Goblin King, under a mistletoe, within the first few minutes of being home, and in front of her parents, was a gross understatement.

But there she was, his lips on hers. No denying the obvious.

Kissing was something Sarah had always enjoyed but had found to be a skill most did not possess. The majority of people were in fact terrible kissers. Too much tongue. Too much nose. Too much spit. Or they rushed right past kissing to other more adult pursuits.

The Goblin King, on the other hand, was a very good kisser.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation it was hard not to appreciate the skill in which he'd tilted his head to hers so that their noses didn't bump. The fact that his lips were soft but not wet. The fact that his breath was clean but not overpowering. The fact that his hand, the one that had curled around her back to draw her in, now lightly stroked her waist in a way she could absolutely still feel through the wool of her coat.

And then he did that rare thing Sarah had always considered her Achilles heel. He made a soft exhalation of appreciation. Almost a groan. The kind you only read about in books. Like there was nothing better in the world than kissing her in that moment.

His tongue teased along the seam of her mouth, and she parted them instinctively. The only thing that stopped the kiss from going further was the sound of a throat clearing. Her father's.

Sarah was immediately reminded that he'd once caught her making out with Cody Hines in tenth grade. Cody with braces who always spit when he talked. Cody who tasted like old peanut butter because he never brushed his braces properly. The mortification of the light coming on in her basement. Cody's face drawing back, her own creasing into a look of horror that matched her father's – only hers was covered in drool. And not her drool.

Sarah pulled back, her face turning the same shade of red it had thirteen years before.

Karen was absolutely glowing. She had a look of bliss on her face, with one hand pressed to her chest like she was watching a Hallmark movie. There was a glint in her eye that suggested she would have left them alone and hedged her bets on getting a grandchild no more than nine months later.

Her father was trying to look disapproving and fatherly, but still managed to look pleased. In a way it hadn't when he caught Cody.

"Oh my," Karen sighed loudly, as though her happiness couldn't be muted any longer. "If that's how it is every time, no wonder you've stolen our Sarah away."

"I try," Jareth replied, his hand still holding her flush to his side.

"Don't make me load my old 26," teased Robert. Sarah didn't have the heart to tell her father that wasn't a thing.

Just then Toby came down the stairs like a herd of elephants and bounded into the hall. He shook his longish hair out of his eyes and cracked a smile when he say Sarah. The smile tilted when he took in Jareth.

His brow furrowed for a moment, as though his mind was trying to make sense of the nonsensical and then the smile slid back into place.

Sarah took that opportunity to put some distance between herself and her 'boyfriend'.

She enveloped him in a tight hug, marvelling at the fact that he was almost her height. She ruffled his hair in a way he always protested but secretly loved.

"Merry Christmas, kiddo. So good to see you!" Toby's eyes drifted back to Jareth as though magnetized. "Ah… this is Jareth."

The not-Goblin King reached out a hand. "You must be Toby."

Toby nodded and shook it, his eyes widening for a moment like he'd been shocked.

"I hope you realize just how special you are to your sister."

"Have we met before? You look weirdly familiar." Toby looked confused.

Sarah, watching the exchange like a deer caught in the headlights, clapped her hands. "Well! Now that we're all introduced, let's not stand here talking." Anything but talking. She pulled her coat off and then motioned for Jareth's so she could hang them up.

The not-Goblin King looked amused but complied.

Sarah returned and picked up her bag. "I assume I have my old room? Where should we put ah, his things?"

Karen did that disconcerting giggle again. "Oh, Sarah, you're an adult. With yours of course."

Sarah could practically feel the grin radiating behind her. "Oh, we couldn't. We really couldn't," she said through clenched teeth. "Out of respect for you both."

"Nonsense, dear. Your father doesn't mind." She didn't wait for Robert's input. "Plus your great aunt Elizabeth is coming tomorrow and that's it for bedrooms."

Panic. "Doesn't Toby still have a bunk bed?"

She could feel the grin change to something far less amused behind her.

"Well, I suppose…" Karen trailed off with a frown.

"I'd be delighted to sleep anywhere, Karen," Jareth offered smoothly. "I'm sure if I 'bunk' in Toby's room we can spend some time getting to know one another. Share some stories. Man to man."

"My room it is!" Sarah exclaimed immediately – a touch too loudly. She took Jareth's arm and affected a bright smile. "Since we are all just perfectly fine with that arrangement. Fine."Her voice rising with every word. "It's fine!"

"Perfectly," Jareth agreed.

"Well, it's all settled then," Karen said with immense satisfaction. "We'll let you get comfortable and then come down and join us for an early supper when you're ready, hmm? I just ordered Chinese for tonight since we weren't sure on your arrival with the weather. I promise to cook you something homemade and extra delicious tomorrow," Karen added to Jareth specifically.

"It all sounds lovely," he replied affably. "In the meantime Sarah is sweet enough."

Sarah felt her smile crack but she managed to hold it until they were out of sight and up the stairs.

"You are supposed to be boring!" Sarah hissed. "Stop making Karen melt. She'll be goo by Christmas at this rate."

He flashed her an equally devastating smile. "I can't help if I've that effect on mortal women."

"Don't flatter yourself. Karen would stick me with the toothless mailman if it meant getting a grandchild."

"Come, come Sarah, your options may be limited but I hardly think you're that desperate. Yet."

Sarah opened her old bedroom door and pushed him in. Which of course was a mistake because it just brought home how small her room was. And how they were both in it together. And that there was only one bed. And it was only a double, which might as well have been a single.

The room had been renovated since she was younger, the wallpaper replaced at some point. But affectations of her childhood still coloured the space. A print on the wall here, a tchotchke there. Things Sarah hadn't taken with her when she'd gone away to school but had been too valuable in their way to get rid of.

"Charming," Jareth remarked jovially. He dropped his bag and took in the room. He picked up her old music box, turning the crank until the tinny tune began to play and the figurine began to dance.

"You were thinking about this dress. The big skirt, the jewels… thinking you'd look like some sort of fairy princess."

Sarah stared at him wide eyed, and then sobered. "Yes, well poisoned peaches will do that. I thought that ridiculous get up had been your doing." Ridiculous but beautiful.

Jareth tutted, setting the box down. "Hardly. That confection was practically virginal. I'd have chosen something far more revealing."

Sarah pulled a face. "I was fifteen."

"Yes. An entirely awkward age. Too old to turn, too young to keep." He smiled. "Not anymore."

Sarah quickly turned away and began hanging a few things in the closet. Anything to distract her from the situation. When she turned back around, the not-Goblin King was stretched out on her bed, watching her with arms folded behind his head.

Something stuck in the back of Sarah's throat. "This is not going to work."

"I agree. That tiny excuse for a closet cannot possibly hold everything I've brought."

She looked incredulously at the small leather satchel. "What, are you Mary Poppins?"

"Sarah, I can't pretend to understand you at all. First I was Obo something now I am someone called Mary? We really must stick to the script if we are to have any chance of fooling your parents."

"Speaking of the script, I specifically said minimal touching. Min-i-mal."

He slid to one side, patting the space beside him. "I shall endeavour to keep my distance, but it's a small bed so I can't help it if you accost my person in your sleep."

Hands pressed to her temples. "Oh my god."

"Jareth," he corrected with a gleam.

" _You_ can sleep on the floor." She pulled open the closet again and began digging.

The gleam faded.

"There!" Sarah triumphantly held up a faded pink sleeping bag. It looked like it would fit a ten year old at best.

"You can't possibly expect me to sleep in that."

Sarah nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes. I'll be generous and get a few more blankets. Maybe some pillows."

"I'm not sure I like this side of you, Sarah. And you don't think your parents will find it odd that two people in l-" Sarah held up a warning hand, " _ike_ would sleep separately?"

"They don't have to know. And if they do, I'll think of something."

"The lies keep piling up don't they? You are really vying for top of the naughty list year."

"Well I would so hate to dethrone you."

Jareth ignored her and scanned the small space again. "I suppose I could whip something together."

"No magic!"

"Then shall I instead 'bunk' with your brother? You know, I suspect a part of him actually remembers me. We did bond over those thirteen hours _you_ wished him away."

"Fine," her voice had almost reclaimed the same whine from thirteen years ago. " _I'll_ just sleep on the floor."

"Probably for the best if you're so worried you won't be able to keep your hands to yourself."

Sarah looked positively apoplectic. She pointed an accusing finger. "I know what you're doing."

"I rather doubt that."

"It won't work. I won't be manipulated anymore by amoral Goblin Kings."

"You're the one who placed a public ad to fool your parents, at Christmas no less, but by all means claim the moral high ground," he replied dryly.

"I can't believe I ever thought this would work."

There was a brief knock and then the door swung open.

Sarah sat down quickly on the edge of the bed as though she'd been caught. Jareth's hand settled heavily on her thigh. Like it belonged there. His hand was so much warmer without the coat between them. She glanced down to see he wasn't wearing gloves and then looked back up, plastering a rather fragile smile on her face.

Karen took the pair in and then gestured around the room. "Have everything you need?"

"Absolutely everything," replied Jareth warmly, his long fingers drumming against her jeans in a way Sarah found highly distracting.

"Excellent! Didn't mean to interrupt," Karen gave a knowing little smirk, "but the food is here. Better get down there before Toby eats it all. I swear that boy," she added affectionately on her way out the door.

Sarah grabbed his hand to remove it.

Karen turned and ducked her head back in.

Jareth threaded his fingers through hers instead. Sarah's smile wobbled further.

"I just wanted to say your father and I are so happy to have you both here for Christmas."

"It's fair to say there is nowhere else I would rather be," Jareth replied in a tone that reeked of pure triumph.

As soon as the door closed, Sarah uncoiled her hand and stood up. "What happened to 'best behaviour'?"

"You'll have to admit I could be much worse."

"That is _really_ small comfort, right now. Can we please just get dinner over with without any incidents?"

Jareth offered her a lazy grin.

Sarah frowned. "And get out of my bed."

He gave her a look of mock surprise. "I think that is the first time any woman has ever said that to me." But he stood up, adjusting his shirt. "It really is exhausting living up to your expectations."

* * *

When they got downstairs the food was already all laid out. As Karen had warned, Toby's plate was already laden with an obscene amount of bright red chicken balls, ribs, and a mountain of fried rice.

He greeted them with a full mouth.

"Gross," Sarah chided affectionately.

Karen had seated them side by side. Rather closer than the dimensions of the dining table required.

Jareth stared at the Americanized Chinese fair dubiously. Sarah filled her plate and then nudged him when he looked reluctant to do the same.

Robert offered them both wine. Sarah tipped the end of the bottle down when her father looked to fill it only halfway.

Jareth poked at a bright red ball.

"Have you never had chicken balls before?" Toby asked dubiously, his mouth still too full to speak politely.

"I've not had that… pleasure. Where I'm from these would probably cause a riot."

Sarah choked on her wine.

"You have a funny accent. Where are you from?"

"Toby!" Karen admonished.

"The Undergrou-"

Sarah kicked him under the table.

"The land down under. Australia," she covered quickly.

Jareth raised a brow but didn't argue.

"I wondered," Karen remarked with interest. "Sarah told us so little. Though I would have guessed England."

"I travel."

"He does," Sarah agreed. "Always gone. For work. That's why this visit is kind of a one-time thing. He's so often away." She affected to look put out.

Jareth chuckled, dropping his arm behind her back. "It's true. I keep asking Sarah to come with me, but as you know, she's ever the stubborn one."

"You should go with him, Sarah," her father interjected earnestly. "What an experience! Treat yourself."

"Yes, Sarah," Jareth agreed, the amusement in his voice now entirely impossible to ignore. "Treat yourself."

"Oh I wish you would," Karen added. "What fun!"

She took a generous gulp of wine.

Jareth's eyes positively gleamed.

The rest of the meal went by fairly unremarkably. Sarah had been right – the mentions of tech sales meant almost no follow up questions. Toby had looked briefly interested, but Sarah managed that by refilling his plate continually.

Despite being new to the take out experience, Jareth proved to be the most adept with the chop sticks. The rest of the Williams family mostly flung rice about haphazardly, Sarah being marginally better. Jareth on the other hand was an expert. Sarah couldn't help being drawn to his bare hands and how deftly his long fingers manoeuvred everything.

The same fingers that had curled around her thigh. _Stop it._

She had almost started to relax again, aided by a few refills of wine, when they got to the fortune cookies. It was a tradition in her family to read them aloud.

Toby chose his first. "Your love of music will be an important part of your life." He rolled his eyes but looked a little pleased. "In bed," he added with an immature grin.

Robert cracked his open next. "'Your home is the center of great love.' Well I'll certainly drink to that."

"Your goals are within your reach." Karen shared a small smile with her husband, and raised her glass.

Sarah snapped hers open, sliding the slim piece of paper out. "In lies there is sometimes found a truth."

"In bed," Toby added.

"Doesn't really work," Sarah replied with a snort, then frowned at her paper.

The not-Goblin King opened his. "Now is the time to reclaim what you lost."

Sarah looked up suspiciously, feeling the universe begin to coalesce against her.

"In bed," Toby helpfully added again.

"Indeed," Jareth agreed. "It has been a rather tiring day."

"No doubt," Karen nodded sympathetically. "We'll clean up. You two should just head up to bed."

Jareth smiled widely. "What a fantastic idea."

* * *

 **AN:** I couldn't resist revisiting fortune cookies. Next comes the logistics of sleeping… *I'm sure nothing could go wrong there*.

I have not forgotten about Tanglewood. This fic is like my side piece. I'm a two timing bastard, but I know that Tanglewood is ever forgiving. I just might have to sleep on the couch.

For those who have asked the chapters are likely going to stay this length. Between 2000-3000 words means I can manage this (incredibly unusual for me) updating schedule.

Thanks for the love, and ideas! I dig hearing about your fave tropes and predictions.


	6. Bedknobs and Bacon

" _It's when we get into bed with our enemies that we find out who our friends are."_

 _ **Anthony T. Hincks**_

* * *

Sarah arrived at the only possible conclusion. Her entire family conspired against her.

Faced with the acute possibility she was about to be alone with her old nemesis, who seemed very much interested in making her squirm AND abusing the vital minimal touching rule, Sarah began to panic in earnest.

"I could always sleep in Toby's room. Give us a chance to catch up?"

"Gross." Toby tossed half a cookie at her. "You're my sister."

"Different beds, weirdo."

"You're still a girl! A girl who is related to me. My room is a 'male only space'." He framed the words with his hands proudly.

Robert put down his drink. He looked between the two, concern creasing her brow. "Is there a problem, Sarah?"

 _Oh so many things, dad._ Sarah blanked. "Um… no… just… snoring. Snoring."

"It's true. Sarah snores," Jareth explained, a look of indulgence on his face. "She's so terribly embarrassed though I've told her it doesn't bother me in the least."

Karen nodded sympathetically. "So does her father. I wonder if it's a genetic thing. Very understanding of you though. Have you ever tried ear plugs? I can give you a set."

Toby shook his head in censure at his sister. "And you wanted to sleep in my room. Wow. Just wow."

Sarah looked at each face dumfounded. Traitors. All of them.

"You said there was egg nog?" She didn't wait for an answer, but instead walked over to the crystal bowl and snatched up a cup. She bent and dug through the liquor caddy first. She pulled out rum, filling the glass more than 2/3 full. She added a splash of nog for colour.

When she turned back around, Jareth was watching her with a raised brow.

She cheers'd him and drank deeply, relishing the slow burn. She didn't even like rum. It was a means to an end. The end being sweet oblivion.

"It's fine. It's all fine." Sarah wasn't even sure who she was speaking to anymore.

"I'd like some too," Toby asked.

"Right, of course. Have mine." She set her glass down in front of her brother and started to make another.

Toby looked like Christmas had come early until Robert snatched the glass away. "Perhaps a virgin nog for your thirteen year old brother, Sarah."

"She's just exhausted. Afraid to admit it," Jareth added conspiratorially to Karen.

Karen nodded. "Say no more. Sarah dear, why don't you head up to bed."

The worst part was that she was in fact tired. The heavy meal had already settled like a weight and the wine hadn't helped. Work had been very busy leading up to the holidays. The drive had been long. The thought of a hot shower beckoned. She nodded.

"We can keep Jareth company while you get some rest."

The not-Goblin King's lips twitched.

"He's tired too. Aren't you?" She was too far away to kick him under the table but she imagined her expression adequately conveyed the desire.

"So I am. Looking forward to curling up with," he eyed Sarah mirthfully, "a good book. Although I would love to get to know you all better. Hear more about Sarah. Perhaps share my own stories."

Sarah practically dragged him up the stairs.

"While your new found enthusiasm for taking me to bed is appreciated, Sarah, perhaps don't break my hand. I'd rather keep use of them."

She spun. "You are the worst, you know that right?"

"Come, come, Sarah, I need _something_ enjoyable out of this arrangement."

"You're going to get paid, aren't you?"

He eyed her blandly. "I already told you I don't require money."

"Well that's your choice to do it for free then."

Jareth closed the door behind them. "Oh, I never said I was doing it for free, precious. I believe your ad said the price was negotiable."

Sarah turned again. "You've got to be joking. I meant the final price. In dollars."

"You never specified." He leaned against the door, managing to make the room look all the more small. "You of all people know the right words matter."

She held her ground. "I work in cut throat business. The price is always negotiated before the work begins. You can take the money or leave it."

"Fair enough. We _could_ call this off. I could just drop the glamour," for a minute the Goblin King in full armour flickered into being and then vanished. "Though I'd hate to leave without saying goodbye first."

Her lips pursed in displeasure. "This _is_ about revenge."

"It's just business, as you said."

She turned away in annoyance. "And what is your price? I already told you can't have Toby."

"As endearing as the boy who can't seem to chew with his mouth closed is," he remarked dryly. "He is not the price."

Her eyes lit on the bed and she turned back around, mouth parting in suspicion.

Easily discerning her expression, Jareth looked torn between being amused and annoyed. "Hardly, Sarah. I don't need to resort to such tactics. Don't fret over the price. Negotiations, as you know, take time. We can discuss those… minute details later."

She collected a few of her things, and moved past him before he could say more. "I'm going to take a much-needed shower now."

* * *

The water was hot and the steady stream did much to relieve her stress. She stretched it for as long as possible, to the point she'd almost convinced herself she could manage the holidays like she had summer camp in eighth grade. The week she'd had to share the cabin with Jessica. Jessica who signed her named with a heart on the 'I'. Jessica whom Sarah had found annoying on every possible level. Jessica who'd told everyone at camp that Sarah stuffed her bra – a jealous lie – and had stolen her favourite tortoise shell hair barrette and denied it later. She'd figured out how to handle Jessica before the week was over. She could handle Jareth. Though she didn't think there were any outhouses she could conveniently lock him in.

When she walked back into her room, the not-Goblin King was already in bed reading a book. Peaches was curled at his feet. Another traitor. He looked so normal, like he was just a mortal man, she almost did a double take. When she realized his chest was bare, she did.

An expanse of pale skin and lithe muscles. No chest hair, which she'd always hated. The covers were pulled only to his waist. She swallowed awkwardly. "You'd better not be naked."

He glanced over the top of the page and cocked a brow. "Yet another thing a woman has never said before. And no," he eyed her outfit. "Though not all of us feel the need to dress like an arthritic grandmother when going to bed."

He wasn't far off. Sarah who hated wearing anything other than a t-shirt or nightgown, disliking anything on her legs at night, was wearing the thickest set of pyjamas she owned. Made of a heavy duty flannel, they were covered in "cutesy" penguins and buttoned to the neck. They were also at least two sizes too big. They'd been a gift from her parents last Christmas. She'd brought them just to strategically wear them once in front of them.

Her hair was still damp from the shower, so she sat at her old vanity to brush it out. Which was another mistake, as the mirror just presented a perfect image of the Goblin King waiting half-naked in bed for her.

Tossing the brush down, she pulled a book at random off the shelf and then stopped about two feet away from the bed.

On the one hand, they were both adults. Sleeping and sex were two different things. On the other hand one of the adults was the Goblin King. A creature of fantasy. In the flesh. Currently in not much more than flesh.

"They don't have pyjamas in the Underground?"

"I won't judge you if you'd rather sleep on the floor," he replied without looking up. "I didn't realize it had been quite so long for you than you'd be unable to just sleep in a bed. I'd so hate for you to feel uncomfortable."

Sarah scowled at the provocation and then drew back the covers enough to slide in, careful to keep as much distance as the double allowed. Which wasn't much despite them both being slim.

The bed was already warm thanks to him. Karen had scented the sheets with lavender. It was going to be a really long night.

He seemed entirely engrossed in his book, so she cracked hers open to a random page.

"Heaving bosoms"… "quivering thighs"…

She flipped to the cover. She'd pulled one of her old Harlequin romances. Or maybe it was Karen's.

She discreetly splayed her fingers to hide the bodice ripper image.

"Good book?" His tone was innocent in a way that told her he'd noticed exactly what she was reading. He leaned over her for amoment. Close enough that his shorn hair brushed her cheek. "'Throbbing member'? That sounds rather painful."

She coughed awkwardly. "Must be Karen's."

"It sounds far more interesting than what I'm reading."

"Oh?" Sarah asked, using the opportunity to toss the paperback on the floor.

"Yes. 101 Villainous Ways to Seduce Virginal Heroines."

Sarah snorted. "Very funny."

"Not remotely. It doesn't seem to be working at all."

"Not remotely," she agreed, her stomach flipping just a little.

"Of course it doesn't help they make chastity belts with penguins on them these days. Masterfully played."

Sarah couldn't help a sly grin at the ceiling. "Thank you. Still reading?"

"Not remotely."

She turned out the bedside light and rolled her head away from him into the pillow. She was so close to the edge of the bed, she half expected to end up on the floor anyway. It was impossible not to be hyper aware that he was beside her.

The Goblin King.

The moon reflected too brightly on the freshly fallen snow. She hadn't thought to draw the blinds and the result was a room lit by winter's white light. She could see their reflection in the mirror. Mocking her. It didn't help that her pyjamas really were ridiculous.

She felt him shift, the mattress dipping, no doubt seeking his own comfort. Peaches took the opportunity to slide between them. Okay, maybe not a traitor after all. A low rumble started, the purr breaking the fraught silence enough that Sarah eventually found sleep after mentally listing everything she knew about baseball and the Civil War.

Her dreams were anything but boring though. The feline weight at her back was replaced by something more substantial. The sensation of an arm curling around her to draw her away from the precarious edge. A kiss under the mistletoe, this time with no parents avidly watching. Nothing to stop it. Nothing to distract.

* * *

When she woke it was to that feeling of in between, where sleep and awake tangle and anything is possible. The bed was warm, and she rolled into the heat with a contented sigh, her face burrowing into a cooler pillow. A pillow that smelled like something more masculine than lavender.

Sarah shot up. She was alone in the bed, and for a moment she looked around her room in confusion, unsure of what was real and what was make believe. As she'd done for so many years after that fateful night. Light streamed in but it was difficult to guess the time. She had the vague memory of limbs entwining in sleep. She pressed a hand to her forehead. Too much Chinese. Too much wine. Too much everything.

The door opened and the not-Goblin King walked in.

Real.

In nothing but a towel.

Too real.

He'd obviously showered. His hair was wet and slick. Water beaded on his pale skin. So much skin. When had Karen switched to hand towels only? She followed the descent of one droplet from his neck, down his torso, across a toned stomach with just a slight trail of fine hair, and beneath the perilously low slung terry cloth.

Caught staring, Sarah bristled defensively. "Couldn't you just have…" she motioned with her fingers.

"You said no magic. And sometimes I appreciate the little rituals in life. Taking pleasure in small things."

He turned to the closet, now filled with far too many finely cut, decidedly male, clothes and dropped the towel.

Or not small…

…judging from her limited perspective. Sarah fell back quickly and pulled a pillow over her face, silently screaming into it.

When she pulled it off again, Jareth was dressed in a slim button up shirt and pressed slacks. He was regarding her with a glint in his eyes as he finished doing up his belt. "Now _that_ I have seen women do in my presence before." He turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. "I have to say I lied, Sarah. You don't snore." He winked. "You do however drool. Just slightly."

The door closed.

The desire to stay in bed and just let the world implode around her was ever so tempting. When she finally forced herself to crawl out of bed, it was only because it was quiet downstairs. Too quiet. She'd left Jareth alone with her family. A rookie mistake.

Sarah threw on clothes as quickly as she could, pausing only long enough to try and look presentable. It hadn't escaped her notice that he'd been dressed impeccably. She added a light smattering of make-up. Hair combed. Teeth brushed.

When she descended the stairs, it was to the smell of coffee and bacon. A delectable combination. Even better than Goblin Kings. Karen, for all her machinations, was sometimes wonderful.

Only it wasn't her step mother cooking.

It was _him._

She paused in the doorway of the kitchen. Jareth, shirt sleeves rolled up, was deftly folding an omelette. Toby was seated at the kitchen table, his plate stacked with breakfast foods and a comic opened beside him. Her father was reading the paper. Karen, so unused to help in the kitchen that wasn't paid, had given up any pretence of doing anything other than watching Jareth dreamily.

When she saw Sarah, she sat up brightly. "Good morning, Sarah. You didn't tell me he could cook. A man who knows his way around the kitchen is definitely a keeper." She shot a look at Robert, who only raised the paper a little higher.

"Cooking is one of those small pleasures in life. Coffee?" It took Sarah a moment to realise he meant her. She accepted a cup gratefully. Even the coffee was delicious. He'd steamed the milk.

"You're up late," her father remarked. The one thing they'd always shared in common was being morning people.

"Rough sleep," Sarah supplied.

Karen's eyes drifted between the two, a knowing smirk bowing her lips.

"I was going to let you sleep in. Bring you breakfast in bed."

Karen let out a sort of breathy sigh at the thought. It was loud enough that Robert looked up again, this time a frown creased his face as he glanced between his enthralled wife and red-faced daughter, and then lit on Jareth – the cause.

Interesting, Sarah thought, filing it away for later. Perhaps her father could be turned back from the dark side after all.

"So. Christmas Concert tomorrow, Tobes. Looking forward to it?" Sometimes you had to throw your brother right under the bus.

Toby looked up, a rasher of bacon dangling from his mouth. "Whatever." But she could see him swallow awkwardly.

"And what are you doing in it?" Jareth slid a perfectly presented plate in front of Sarah.

Toby looked up again. "Singing," he mumbled. "And playing guitar. Same time. On stage." There was an element of fear underlying his tone.

"Before a captive audience," mused the not-Goblin King, sounding entirely like.

Toby's throat bobbed.

"He's very talented," Sarah added proudly. "I'm looking forward to it. We all are."

Toby let his hair fall into his eyes.

"As am I then." Jareth eyed the boy closely. "It's all in your confidence. Have that and they'll be your slaves."

Toby looked doubtful. Perhaps hopeful too. "Maybe."

"You have to want it." Jareth picked up his own cup, his eyes finding Sarah's over the rim. "As with anything, if you want something badly enough you find a way to get it."

* * *

 **AN:** He dropped the towel. Oh yah, he dropped that towel!

Loving your comments :) For those of you who have mentioned feeling bummed this time of year, all the glitter and goblin goodness your way. Seriously.

Next chapter – Christmas Concert. Will there be shenanigans? Is water wet? And I can neither confirm nor deny that there will be a game of Risk too. A game, in our house, which always results in at least one flipped board every time. *rubs hands gleefully*

I drool when I sleep. I have come to terms with this.


	7. Worth the Risk

" _You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else."_

 ** _Einstein_**

* * *

Sarah looked away and bit into a perfectly toasted piece of toast. Apparently the ever burnt or still bread dilemma didn't apply to no good, very bad Goblin Kings.

Spiced peaches.

The jam on the toast was peach.

It had a hint of something hotter – a chili maybe – against the pure taste of summer. Sarah recoiled even as her taste buds sang.

"Something wrong?" Toby was eying her curiously.

"Nothing." She could see Jareth's shoulders rocking slightly. Sarah scowled. "Just remembering that time he almost poisoned me with a rotten peach."

"Oh, you recovered well enough I think."

"No thanks to you."

He shot her a lazy smile. The kind that provoked as well as teased. "Still, it was no reason to throw a chair through my wall."

The silence in the room was suddenly deafening. When she turned, three rapt faces were watching them. A piece of partially chewed egg fell from Toby's mouth.

Robert blinked. "My Sarah? A chair?"

Karen looked alarmed. Toby looked impressed. Jareth looked entirely in his element.

"It was," Sarah swallowed, "a very breakable wall." More blinks. "We were… playing Risk!"

Robert's expression cleared and he nodded, folding his paper. "Ah, a highly dangerous game. And my Sarah is very competitive. Always needs to win."

"Jareth already knows that. I beat him - easily by the way," she eyed the not king slyly, "despite his atrocious cheating, he was positively crushed."

Her father snapped a finger at her. "That's my girl."

"Yes," Jareth's face had turned serious. "But we've never had a rematch, have we?"

Sarah sipped her coffee and pretended she couldn't hear him.

"You guys are super weird." Toby went back to his comic and breakfast. He took a large bite of sausage and then burped.

"You're welcome," Jareth replied.

Toby looked up, confusion crossing his face again.

* * *

Robert left shortly after for the office. Billable hours, he said jovially, but promising to be home for dinner. Karen shooed everyone out of the kitchen, declaring she and Toby would clean up. She promised to do some baking afterwards. Toby's expression made it clear he was not at all a fan of the plan.

Sarah was not entirely sure she wanted to be left to her own devices with the Goblin King, but was 'saved' when the phone rang. She'd rethink that later.

"Hello?"

"I'm here and you're not here." The accent was a thick Irish brogue. Great Aunt Elizabeth.

"Merry Christmas, Aunt Lizzie."

"I'm here and you're not here." Great Aunt Elizabeth - the long retired school teacher and very active choir mistress, of whom even the priests quaked.

"Right. And where are you exactly?"

The phone dropped away for a minute. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the poor woman's finally gone daft." When she spoke again it was slowly and over enunciated. "I'm at the airport, dear. You were supposed to pick me up."

"This is Sarah, Aunt Lizzie."

The voice immediately brightened. "Oh, Sarah, how lovely! And it's Grrrreeeaaaaat Aunt Lizzie to you, young lady."

"Hold on and I'll get Karen." Sarah covered the receiver and called for her step mother.

Karen picked up the phone, said hello and then pulled it back wincing. Sarah could see a vein begin to throb on her step mother's forehead.

Great Aunt Elizabeth, the ex-nun with a heart of gold, who still frowned very strongly on divorce, and so had taken a dim view of her nephew's re-marriage. She took an even dimmer viewer of her Protestant niece in law.

Sarah realized that she was not the only one who felt the stress of the holidays and familial expectations.

"You said your flight was coming in at 4:30," Karen managed in a voice an octave too high. "Yes, but Aunt Elizabeth how were we to know you meant Dublin time? Normally one says the time upon arrival. Well yes, it _may_ be 4:30 in Dublin but it's," she glanced at the hall clock, "only 11:30 here. Yes. I. Am. Sure. You can understand our confusion right?" Karen rolled her eyes. "Or you can't..." Her step mother looked ready to crack. She glanced down at her flour covered apron. A timer in the kitchen dinged.

Sarah was feeling magnanimous.

"I'll go get her," she whispered. She eyed the figure beside her, weighing her options, and then took his arm. " _We'll_ go get her."

Karen steepled her hands in thanks. Aunt Lizzie would probably tell her she was doing it wrong.

"Yes, Sarah will come and get you. Right away. Yes, Elizabeth, she is more than old enough to drive."

Sarah didn't hear the rest of the conversation as she pulled her coat on and shuffled a bemused Jareth out the door.

They lived close enough to the airport that the drive itself went fairly quickly. The airport on the other hand made the Goblins look orderly by comparison. Sarah considered that the real horror of Die Hard 2 was not the terrorists, but the idea of being in an airport at Christmas Time. They had to park about 2 miles from the doors. The Goblin King, by comparison looked at home in the chaos. In fact, Sarah noticed that he received more than a few appreciative looks from women. And several from men as well. In his charcoal coat, his hair seemingly immune to the static electricity that came with winter, and a deep blue scarf artfully draped, she supposed she couldn't entirely blame them.

Forgetting to bring the flight information, Sarah scanned the arrivals for Aer Lingus. Before she could pinpoint the gate, she heard her name shouted loudly and affectionately.

A largish woman, her stark white hair perfectly coifed, came barrelling towards her and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"Don't you look a sight, so tall and lovely. Such rosy cheeks." Her aunt pinched the frost bitten aforementioned for good measure. "And who is this? Yer young man then?"

Her eyes roved over the not-Goblin King. Sarah prepared for the onslaught of gushing. Instead, her aunt's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Aye, very handsome." But there was something in her tone that did not suggest it was necessarily compliment.

Far from being intimidated by the one woman famous for having made a particularly austere Cardinal cry. Jareth y grinned – a touch too widely.

Her great aunt snapped back as though slapped, and then shook her head. "Stuff and nonsense," she muttered. She handed her bags unceremoniously to Jareth. He hefted them easily.

Her aunt canted her head. "He's a very nice bum though," she whispered to Sarah. Great Aunt Elizabeth the ex-nun who made sailors blush.

On the way back to the car and for the entire drive home, they listened to the litany of the sins that were "the Americas". First they had taken her dear sister and Sarah's grandmother away, god rest her soul. Then they had the gall to drive on the wrong side of the road. Elizabeth took it upon herself to warn Sarah to watch out when any car passed them as though Sarah was in the wrong lane. America was also ungodly cold. The freezing temperatures were likely due to the lack of churches. There were not enough churches. Hell was a frozen wasteland absent from God, not a fiery pit, Elizabeth reminded them. There were certainly not enough Catholic churches. Americans also drank their beer cold, like ungodly heathens.

Finally, America had produced Karen.

Sarah tried to remind her they had produced her father as well – he'd never even been to Ireland – and her own mother. Elizabeth crossed herself when Sarah mentioned her mother. Her famous mother that Elizabeth had adored until the divorce, and then wouldn't mention afterwards. Her famous mother who had died in a plane crash five years ago. Sarah swallowed thickly.

"And you have the worst crisps! You should have seen what they had in the airport! Ranch!" Elizabeth made a noise of disgust. "Whatever happened to a perfectly good prawn flavour packet?"

She was still muttering about the deficiencies of the new world, George Clooney being a notable exception, when they bundled her into the house.

The one saving grace of Lizzie was that despite her disapproval of her nephew's divorce and remarriage, she completely adored Toby. Toby who looked nothing like Sarah or their father, a spitting image of Karen in fact, could do no wrong in her eyes. She loved all her family fiercely. Even Karen in her way, as she often reminded the poor woman that she prayed for her immortal soul regularly.

Toby was in the living room tuning his guitar when they arrived. Elizabeth had immediately emptied her purse of the all the best kinds of Irish chocolate. Toby's eyes lit up. She ruffled his hair and told him to get a haircut because he looked like a perfect heathen. But she said it a way that suggested she rather liked his kind of heathen.

She gave Karen a polite hello and hug, and accepted a shortbread. Of course she immediately remarked that there wasn't enough butter in them, but no one pointed out that she slid two more off the plate. Sarah helped her to her room for a nap shortly after, her aunt lamenting the lack of comfort of American cars on the way up the stairs. Sarah didn't point out her car was Japanese.

When Sarah came back down, Jareth and Toby were alone in the living room. Some music sheets were spread out around them. Toby was watching raptly as Jareth demonstrated some quick finger work on the classical guitar. She watched from the doorway.

Jareth passed the guitar back over. "As I said, don't force it. Let your fingers slide across the strings and then pluck gently but quickly. Don't look down when you sing. Your hands know what to do."

"It's just that I get embarrassed."

"Are you the best or the worst in your music program?"

Toby brushed hair out of his eyes. "Best I guest."

"Then why are you pretending like you're not?"

Toby shrugged. "I dunno. Supposed to be humble or whatever, right?"

"Humble is for average people who really wish they weren't. Own your greatness."

"What if I make a mistake?"

"Then pretend like you did it on purpose, my boy." Jareth corrected a finger position.

Toby looked up thoughtfully. "Have you made mistakes?"

"A few. The key is to never admit them. And never give up trying."

Toby nodded slowly.

"Use your eyes as well as your mouth to sing. Be confident and the girls will fall at your feet."

The boy blushed almost immediately – looking the epitome of an awkward teen.

"Ah, so there _is_ a girl. Only one?" Jareth t'sked. "Does she like you?"

Toby shrugged.

"Well, she's a fool if she doesn't and never suffer fools if you can help it. If she does, master this and she's yours. Always use your gifts to your advantage. If you fail, cheat." Jareth danced a mandarin across his hands. "And between me and you, trust me when I say, no woman can resist nimble fingers."

Sarah cleared her throat immediately and walked into the room. She shot a quelling look at Jareth. He looked completely unrepentant.

Toby set the guitar down. "Oh hey. Want to play a game?"

Jareth's eyes flashed. "What fun."

Without waiting for Sarah's answer, Toby began pulling boards out of the entertainment unit.

One by one they were vetoed.

"Life?"

The rules were explained to Jareth.

"So the object is to acquire as many children as possible? By any means?"

Sarah shook her head. "Next."

"Twister?"

The glint in Jareth's eyes as he took in the tangle of limbs on the lid, made Sarah veto it even faster.

"Clue?" Sarah asked hopefully.

"So lame," Toby shook his head emphatically.

"Mystery Date?"

"Even worse!" Toby pulled a face.

"The object of the game is to secure a mystery man? How desperate."

"Right?" Toby snorted. "Like making a personal ad." His voice rose to mock falsetto. "I need a date!"

Sarah frowned and pushed the box away.

Battleship was only two players. When they opened the box of monopoly, most of the money was missing.

Toby pulled one more box out. "Oh, hey, you can get your rematch! Just try to control your anger, m'kay Sarah?" He set the board up quickly on the floor. Black for Jareth. Green for Toby and Red for Sarah.

Jareth picked up the rule sheet.

Toby noticed and looked between them. "I thought you guys had like that epic game."

"Just making sure the rules are the same as yours. My version is from," he shot a look at Sarah, "Australia."

Toby nodded. "Well, no cheating this time. But if you want to take out Sarah in revenge for beating you, I won't stop you. There is no such thing as family in Risk."

"Hey," Sarah poked her brother.

Toby rubbed his hands. "This could take a while. How long did it take her to beat you?"

"Thirteen hours."

"Thirteen?!" Toby exclaimed incredulously.

"The stakes were… high. And it was ten, actually." Her eyes met the not-Goblin King's. "You stole three hours remember?"

Toby's face creased. "How do you steal hours? That's not even possible."

"Youngest goes first." Sarah quickly shoved the dice at her brother.

The 42 territories were claimed in succession. Both Sarah and Toby were vying for South America which only had two access points, while Jareth boldly made a move for Europe and Asia, despite it being much harder to defend.

An hour later and the carnage was well underway. Karen had at some point dropped off a plate of cookies, smiling fondly at the tableau the trio presented, and then disappeared to more wrapping in the den. She was fervently hoping Elizabeth slept until Christmas.

Jareth proved adept at the game. It didn't help that he seemed to roll more than his fair share of 6s. Enough that Sarah had shot him more than one warning look.

Toby made a joke about not getting into land wars in Asia – both he and Sarah had laughed – until Jareth had decimated the remaining armies Toby had risked trying to establish a foothold. The kid looked a bit dejected.

"Don't feel badly, Toby, you achieve nothing if you risk nothing. There is no shame in defeat. It was well-played."

Sarah's eyes danced. "Jareth knows a lot about defeat."

Toby took stock of the board and his remaining pieces, weighing his options. "I'm out. Going to practice more," he said well naturedly. "Have at it."

He picked up his guitar and leveled a finger at Sarah. "No chairs though. Even if he wins this time."

Sarah crossed her heart. "Scouts honour."

Once they were alone again, Jareth eyed her slyly. "I won't think less of you if you give up. Go back to your toys and your costumes."

"Hardly," Sarah replied. She studied the board, awash in black save for some strongholds of red. "I've beaten worse odds." She looked up. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. I like a challenge."

"Shall we make it more interesting then?" He stretched his long legs. "Last time we played for your brother. What _shall_ we play for this time I wonder?"

* * *

 **AN:** Okay I lied. Christmas Concert next chapter. As well as the rest of this game of Risk. *shift eyes* a wager you say? I'm sure nothing interesting to see there.

I really did once throw a chair in Risk. Not through a wall. It's all but banned in our house (I still love it).

It seems a lot of you drool or snore in your sleep. To quote Home Alone, "You filthy animals."

To whomever made their username "ViciouslyWaiting", well trolled. I think I might love you.

Unrelated - If you don't log in, I can't respond directly if you ask questions. Which means I have to reply here (I don't mind, but just a reminder). This is a bit of a crack fic (or a total one, depending on your bar). By nature it requires a certain suspension of disbelief. The bed sharing is like the least outrageous thing so far IMO - lol. To me, a couple without religious, physical, or mental reservations are likely at it like rabbits after close to two months of dating. I don't think it's entirely believable they'd want separate rooms (keeping in mind Karen and Robert assume they are a legit couple and Sarah is in her late twenties). At least not in my experience, but to quote Dorothy Parker: "Tell him I was too fucking busy- or vice versa." ;)

On that note, my Nana is very Catholic. No hanky panky under her roof unless you are married. I lived with my H before marriage (I'm a very bad, no good Catholic), but if I came to visit you can make damn sure we were separated (I was forgiven once we got married). That said, she judiciously applied that rule to all ages. I remember a friend of the family came to visit – he was a widower in his 90s! – My Nana still put him and his girlfriend in separate rooms. Makes me laugh to this day.


	8. Of All the Gin Joints

_"When life hands you lemons, make a gin and tonic."_

 _ **Anonymous**_

* * *

Sarah looked at him dubiously. "You can't imagine I would be foolish enough to enter into a bet with you. You. Of all people."

"No," the Goblin King replied dryly, "how could I possibly presume that a supposedly intelligent woman who wished her baby brother away on a whim because she couldn't be bothered to stuff a soother in his mouth, who then grew up to post a very public ad for a boyfriend, because she couldn't handle a little ribbing from her family would _ever_ be 'foolish' enough to make a friendly bet in a board game… called Risk of all things."

Sarah blinked and then snorted. "Touché."

She wanted to be annoyed with his less than favourable character study but she found she couldn't. Nor could she quite silence the voice that suggested she indeed the take the risk and up the stakes. _Be bad, Sarah_.

"What exactly did you have in mind?" She jabbed a finger in his direction. "Nothing permanent, let's make that clear. Everyone remains here. No whisking anyone away to an oubliette or anything." Though if Sarah were honest she had a short list of candidates if he were amenable.

"I'm appalled at your lack of faith in my creativity. And fine, nothing permanent." He smiled in a way that was not at all reassuring. "I would like to be unfettered again." When she looked confused, he added. "I'd like to use my magic again… judiciously and not in any way against your family."

Sarah chewed her lip doubtfully. Part of her was loathe to admit she was a little disappointed he hadn't asked for something more riské. "And if I win?"

He leaned towards her, a touch too closely so that his breath fanned her face and she could feel the cadence of his voice as well as hear it. "What do _you_ want, Sarah?"

A loaded question from a being quite capable of delivering almost anything. So much temptation. The way his eyes gleamed suggested he knew the type of carrot he dangled.

"You tell me why you're really here. Honestly."

"Clever girl." He sat back considering. "That is perhaps more than I am willing to risk, in fact."

Sarah perked up. "I _knew_ there was something more to this. What's wrong, Jareth, chicken?"

"Not at all. I think I'd like to up my request, however. I want my magic and I want," his lids lowered. "A kiss."

Sarah stilled. There it was. Her heart had the audacity to flip just a little too. "Then I want to add to mine as well. I want the right to ask you to leave if I decide to. And you will."

"You wound, precious."

"You're the one with all the secrets. All the power. I'm just watching out for those I love."

"How loyal." There was mockery in his tone, but also a trace of longing. As though that kind of bond was something to be envied. He held out a hand.

Sarah looked at it. "I need a drink." She disappeared into the dining room and returned with two stiff gin and tonics. She held one out to Jareth.

"Trying to get me drunk, Sarah? How underhanded."

She clinked his glass. "Anything to win. Don't you approve?"

"Absolutely."

She set the glass down, took a breath and then shook his hand, holding it for a second. "No cheating or you forfeit. Promise."

His fingers curled warmly around her. She still wasn't used to touching him skin to skin. Nothing between them. She blamed the small spark on walking across the carpet in socks.

The game quietly took on an even more competitive edge. The sound of the dice hitting the cardboard lid was a steady staccato of attacks and parries. Jareth lost Europe rather readily, but he began making progress in Sarah's stronghold in South America. The board was a mosaic of red and black, shifting almost every turn like a physical manifestation of wills. At some point Sarah refilled their drinks.

It looked for a while like Sarah had claimed the advantage, but Russia was proving to be a problem.

"Never get involved in a land war in Asia," Sarah muttered, but Toby wasn't there to appreciate her reference. She had carefully turned the board twice to examine her options. She'd finally moved her armies to the Ukraine and was hoping to decimate him in Ural. She rolled a three and swore, scowling down at the three ones.

"Language, Precious," he t'sked. He picked up the dice. A mere five but enough to kill off a large portion of her men. Two more similar rolls and her entry into Asia was all but foiled. When it was Jareth's turn to attack, Europe fell faster than WWII.

"Do you concede?" he asked with a gleam, gesturing to the sea of black on the board.

Sarah looked up, her green eyes narrowing in determination. "Never."

She made an admirable attempt to reclaim ground but the odds were against her and her last army was plucked from the board not long after by a smirking Goblin King.

Sarah drained her drink, clinking the glass down hard. "Damn. Don't forget you promised not to do anything bad with your magic."

"You managed not to throw any chairs. Be proud of that at least. Magic's not all I won, if I recall."

Sarah inclined her head, her eyes flickering down, and waited. Her heart was fluttering quite a lot for a woman who had been kissed more than once. When he made no move to do anything, Sarah looked back at up him expectantly. "Well?"

"So eager?" he mused with relish. "I never specified who was to kiss whom. It's only polite to return the favour."

Sarah pulled a face at him.

"To the victor go the spoils, Sarah."

She folded her arms. "You never specified when either if we are going to argue semantics. How about in twenty years?"

"And you accuse me of cheating? Who's the coward now?" he taunted.

Sarah was. Without a doubt. Not of a simple thing like kissing. But of kissing him, yes. Entirely.

"Fine." It wasn't. Not in the least. Nothing was ever simple when it came to him.

She leaned across the board, bracing one hand on the carpet by his knee. He did nothing to make it easier on her and she had to crane her neck to reach him. He felt her shaky exhalation just before her lips pressed to his.

She'd meant to make it a quick peck. One he would no doubt complain about but which she could argue satisfied the terms of the bet. But his lips were so firm and soft and the gin was now warm in her stomach and fuzzy in her head. When they didn't move, save for bowing just a little, she found she rather wanted to make him do something. Anything. She licked along the seam until his parted. Her tongue darted in just enough to taste the juniper on his breath. And then his tongue swept along hers and suddenly the kiss was deepened and he _was_ doing something.

His hands closed around her upper arms and tugged her closer. The game board was scattered beneath them, the red and black mixing together. Later she'd consider that the family record of that particular game board always getting flipped remained unbroken.

In the moment all she could think about was the feel of his mouth on hers though. His uneven teeth nipped at her jawline and his fingers skimmed along her lower back, in the bare expanse between her low slung jeans and the sweater that had crept up. Her hands threaded through his cropped hair. It rolled like silk. She was no longer supporting herself but entirely reliant on him to remain upright.

And then he made that noise again.

The one he'd made under the mistletoe. The entirely visceral one that suggested kissing her was the best thing ever. It made her stomach flutter and she pressed closer like a moth to a flame.

The room was dim and they were bathed only in the glow of the coloured lights on the tree. Christmas was always a time of magic and possibility. When everything and anything was possible. When time had no meaning. When kissing the Goblin King made entirely too much sense. Like she should have done it ages ago. Her fingers pressed against the gentle tick of his pulse in his neck. She wasn't entirely sure they were even vertical anymore. She found she didn't care. His angles fit to her curves like a puzzle.

The collar of his shirt was open a few inches and she had the mad desire to start unwrapping him like a present. He was under the tree after all. It was only fitting. And gin was ever the abetter of mad schemes.

"Sarah Jennifer Moira Williams!"

The thick Irish brogue cut through the silence of the room.

Sarah looked up guiltily. Her great aunt filled the open French doors like a virago. Hands were firmly planted on her hips. Her stance would have made many an altar boy quake.

Her aunt's disapproving blue eyes were trained, however, on the male figure beneath her. If Sarah hadn't been quite so mortified, she might have noticed that they narrowed in a way that suggested she was more than just disappointed in her niece's pre-marital fumbling. There was something more. Something deeper.

"And right before the baby Jaysus' birth day. Have you no shame?"

Sarah scrambled away from the not-king. "We were playing Risk."

"I'll say as such. Saw many a girl who ended up with a certain kind of present 9 months later after playing those kind of risks."

Sarah took a measuring breath. "Aunt Lizzie-"

"GREAAAAT Aunt Lizzie, my girl. And what do you have to say fer yerself, _young man_?"

His brow arched. "Perhaps knock first next time?"

Lizzie looked like she might murder him, but two things happened at once. Karen, hearing the commotion, came down the hall, and Jareth flicked his wrist.

"What's going in here?" Karen asked pleasantly.

Lizzie turned, her face briefly angry, then blank, and then she laughed. "Oh nothing, dearest. These two were playing a game it seems."

Karen glanced at the overturned board. "Oh, not again, Sarah!"

Jareth draped an arm around Sarah's shoulders. "She gets quite… aggressive when she loses."

"Oh, don't fuss them, Karen. I don't smell anything from the kitchen yet. No doubt you need me help with the supper else we all starve." Karen smiled weakly and allowed herself to be led back out of the room.

Sarah turned. "Did you just magic my aunt?"

"Great aunt," Jareth corrected amiably. "And technically it didn't hurt her so it's perfectly within the rules. Just removed the embarrassment. Consider it a gift." He brushed her cheek. "Though I can't say that I mind seeing you blush so thoroughly."

She swatted his hand away. "No need to rub it in. You won."

"Not yet. But it's a start."

* * *

Her father arrived home not long after. After hearing a few pots bang ominously, Sarah decided to intervene between Lizzie and her step mother in the kitchen. She told herself that she wasn't in fact running away but rather keeping the peace. Despite Lizzie's barb, Karen had indeed started a sumptuous meal and had even managed some baking during their game. Only finishing touches were really needed. Sarah distracted her aunt by keeping Lizzie's glass filled with sherry.

"Just a touch, dear." Of course Lizzie didn't say 'when' until the glass was in danger of overflowing.

When they sat down to a late dinner, a tenuous peace had settled in the house. Karen's roast beef met with glowing approval… or silence which from Lizzie was glowing indeed.

"So do tell us more on how you met. Sarah mentioned it was a Hallowe'en party?"

Sarah's eyes darted between her step mother and the Goblin King, who seemed entirely in his element.

"Did she? Yes, it was a costume party if I recall. Sarah was dressed in a white frothy number, rather ridiculous confection. Though I will say it was quite impossible to miss her."

"But he did," Sarah added tartly. "If I recall his attention was entirely focussed on a rather," she glanced at Toby, "voluptuous redhead. Amongst others in fact."

Jareth waved a hand. "Old friends merely. Though I must say it's fascinating to know that you recall that bit so vividly."

"And what were you dressed as?"

Sarah and Jareth both turned to Toby and then glanced at one another.

"A Goblin King," Jareth remarked smoothly.

Sarah choked on her wine.

Toby's face creased into a confused frown and then cleared again. "Oh cool, I guess."

Sarah exhaled in relief and took another sip.

"She was totally obsessed with some Goblin King character when she was younger," Toby added helpfully. "It was all she wrote about in her diary."

The wine ended up sprayed onto her plate and Sarah broke into a choking fit. She did her best to convey how much her brother was definitely going to die through watery eyes.

A hand rubbed her back as she struggled to breathe again. "Did she now?" There was a rumble of pleased humour in his voice.

"Oh yah! And there were sketches too. Though she's a terrible drawer." He winked at his sister. "And her anatomical proportions are waaaay off."

Sarah aimed a kick at her brother under the table.

"Jaysus, Mary and Joseph!" her aunt exclaimed with a yowl. "Something just attacked me! And here I thought t'woud just be the rocks pretending to me Yorkshires breaking me teeth."

Sarah winced. Karen took a large gulp of her own wine.

"And then you met and the rest was history?" her father asked, pretending his wife wasn't white knuckling a table knife with murderous restraint.

"Oh once he saw me yes. In fact, if anything, he came on a little strong really. Pouring his heart out to me. Begging really. Promising to be my slave," Sarah wrinkled her nose. "All just a little too much really."

Robert's brows rose. Karen still looked charmed. Toby looked disgusted.

She felt Jareth stiffen beside her before he recovered. "Indeed. But I was merely quoting from her favourite book. Sarah, deny it if she likes, was quite smitten. Completely entranced one might say. After all, she'd fought so hard to find me."

"Actually I was looking for," she couldn't help but glance at her brother, "the… ah, restroom. He was standing between me and it."

Toby rolled his eyes. "How romantic."

"It was once we started dancing. I was more than a little… entranced myself. I'd not intended to be. It was nothing more than," his lids flickered, "a little distraction. But looking into those wide green eyes it became something else altogether." His eyes met hers, his expression serious and almost vulnerable. "She looked like she wanted nothing more than for me to kiss her in that moment."

Sarah swallowed thickly. "I did. In that moment."

"Magical," Karen breathed.

Sarah looked up startled. "What?"

"Magical. And then you both were inseparable after."

"No. In fact, Sarah turned and ran away."

"Ran away?" Robert asked with a frown.

Sarah froze.

"Because she still had to use the loo of course!" her aunt finished in exasperation. "Haven't you lot been listening?"

"And then..." Karen asked, eagerly nodding at them to continue.

"And then… shall we just say that I found her again and I knew I couldn't let her go again." His tone was light but there was a weight to his words that made Sarah look up, her own face a mix of conflicting emotions.

Karen pressed a hand to her chest. "Magical," she repeated. Sarah thought she might actually cry.

Lizzie polished her spectacles on her napkin and then considered the pair. "Aye, I think yer right for once, Karen. Magical." There was something in her tone that made Jareth's eyes narrow slightly, his lips curling into something that resembled a smile but was anything but.

Her aunt narrowed her own eyes and then made the sign of the cross like she was warding off evil.

Jareth lips twitched and he toasted her with his glass of red.

"Well then," Sarah exclaimed far too loudly. "Dishes? Jareth and I will do them." She didn't wait for his acquiesce before hauling him up. She ignored Karen's protests and shoved a tray of cookies into her arms so she could dole them out.

Once inside the kitchen, Sarah rounded on the not-king. "What was _that_ all about?"

"Your aunt is more than she what she seems, I think."

Sarah blanched, her lips parting in surprise.

"No, not like that," he chuckled at her expression. "She's not like me. But I'd say she's had a run in with something or someone like me. Judging by her reactions, I'd say _someone_. Someone male. She seems rather keen to see what most ignore. And my little trick should have left her blissfully unaware for much longer."

Sarah folded her arms. "There were no men. She was a nun for years."

Jareth laughed. "My dear little innocent, I've known my fair share of nuns." He held his hands up defensively. "No, _I_ have not rolled about with your aunt. She's from Ireland, no? That is an old place. Many wander off and get lost, shall we say."

Sarah pressed hands to her brows. "What should we do?"

"The dishes I should think. Unless you want to add more lies to your growing list."

Sarah swatted at him. "Be serious. What if she says something?"

Jareth eyed her blandly. "Yes, whatever shall we do if your very aged aunt, who is more than a touch eccentric, who gets under Karen's skin quicker than Hoggle does mine, and loves," Jareth held his hands wide, "a touch of sherry, 'says something'."

Sarah tried very hard to stare at him disapprovingly, but found she could not and instead burst into laughter. It was the cathartic kind that releases all the tension in the body like floodgates being opened. She filled the dishwasher quickly with Jareth's help, marvelling again at finding him so willing to do something so mundane. So domestic. She brewed some coffee and they both returned to the dining room with cups and some Irish Cream. Which, no doubt, Lizzie would find was not up to par with the same bottle bought directly in Ireland.

Lizzie was in fact advising Karen that shortbread made with American butter was naturally inferior to Irish butter because Irish cows made richer milk than colonial cows. It was in their blood. American cows were weak and lazy. Karen had merely nodded and opened another bottle of wine, not commenting that Lizzie had nonetheless almost cleared a plate.

The after dinner conversation was otherwise mostly easy and uneventful. It was hard not to feel the Christmas cheer. Like it had arrived with the holly Karen had festively hung from every corner, and had since leeched into everyone. Jareth seemed to be enjoying himself in a totally disarming and charming way. Even Lizzie relaxed and found it in her heart to thank Karen for the meal. She regaled them with funny, and mostly off colour borderline inappropriate anecdotes about her church – always rife with the most salacious drama – until the jet lag fully caught her again and she bowed out for bed. She offered another slightly suspicious look at Jareth, who wished her sweet dreams in a tone that made Sarah frown. Toby disappeared not long after to practice again before the concert the next evening.

Karen muttered something about needing a Valium to deal with Lizzie again tomorrow, and her father, whether by actual preference or wifely design, withdrew to his study. That left Sarah and Jareth alone at the table. Similar to the game earlier, they were lit only by the candles and the dimmed sconces. Somehow the room seemed to immediately close around them. The family dinner becoming altogether more intimate.

Jareth rolled a truffle across his knuckles. "A rematch?"

Sarah shook her head. "Not a chance."

"Bed then?" His tone was belyingly innocent. Her mind was not.

"How about a movie?" She hoped the panicked desperation only sounded in her head.

* * *

 **AN:** I'm sorry for the huge delay! I'd hoped to have this wrapped up BEFORE Christmas but executing the perfect Christmas for three beasties took up all my time. I hope you are all still in the spirit. It's quieted down so I can focus again. With that said, Merry Christmas, lovelies. I hope it was fabulous for all who celebrated. My kiddos got a real life kitten, amongst other spoils. My son, conceived AND born during Goblin Market is turning 8 tomorrow. I don't know where the time went.

True Story: My great grandmother was a bit of a harpy to my grandmother. My grandfather told the story of how in their first year of marriage he had to take a cast iron frying pan out of her hand before she brained his mother. His mother lived with them for their entire marriage. I love my Nanny but my gram was a saint to put up with her MIL. I imagine Aunt Lizzie a little like my Nanny was.

Hope you recognized Princess Bride in there And I did lie again. Next chapter is the Christmas concert. More shenanigans ahead.

What's that – a cockblocking trope? Would be a shame if that were to happen again...


	9. Secret Chord

" _It doesn't matter what you do because it's going to happen anyway."_

 _ **Leonard Cohen**_

* * *

"He must be exhausted living up to her expectations."

Sarah pretended she couldn't hear him.

"No wonder you enjoy this movie. I can see how her selfish demands must resonate."

Sarah instead pretended he didn't exist.

Of course, he was making it rather difficult.

To begin with he'd insisted on sitting right next to her despite the size of the sofa in the family room being more than ample to permit personal space.

They'd settled on _The Princess Bride_ after failing to see eye to eye on the Christmas specials. They'd started to watch _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ but it soon became apparent that the not-Goblin King identified a little too closely with the titular character.

"What they need is a firm hand. The Grinch should have been ruling those insufferable little Whovians. That would have sorted everything. Like Goblins, simple minded creatures need directions. Rules. Restrictions. Boggings."

Sarah snorted. "You're entirely missing the point."

Jareth released a manufactured sigh. "It's clear the poor creature just wanted some peace and quiet and was unfairly cast into the role of villain. He asked for so little."

Sarah took the remote and flicked it off. "Next."

They made a solid effort to enjoy _Home Alone_ but Jareth couldn't resist pointing out that Kevin's life was much better _after_ he'd wished away his family.

Sarah tried to explain that wasn't what had happened at all, but the not-king would not be convinced. Once the shenanigans started properly, the king was completely fascinated by what he termed, "the brilliant, murderous, little psychopath." And not in a good way.

Sarah swore off Christmas movies altogether and decided to introduce Jareth to another sort of classic. It was like letting him in on a little secret. Something she and Toby shared in particular.

"Hmm. Drowned. Such a pity she didn't know what she'd lost it until it was too late."

Sarah waved a hand at him. "Shhh. Just watch."

And he did. He laughed at the right spots. Even his pointed teasing was not entirely unwelcome. It was, Sarah thought in discomfit, quite natural to curl up and watch a movie with the Goblin King. Yet another something she'd never imagine would come to pass.

Jareth nodded his approval. "Ah, Iocane powder. Brilliant. Always wise to just kill your enemies outright."

Sarah sipped her tea. "Then I feel rather fortunate to be alive."

"Luckily for you, I never really considered you an enemy."

An indelicate puff of derision. "The cleaners would beg to differ."

"And yet here we are," Jareth smiled. That sort of disarming smile that would have her believe there was nowhere else she would rather be. "Believe me when I say my Labyrinth can be a touch more toothsome than you experienced."

Sarah pulled a face. "Do you expect me to believe you made it easy for me?"

"I expect you to believe that it could have been far worse."

When Buttercup slapped Wesley and he slapped her back, Jareth's smile widened in a way Sarah wasn't sure she liked. "I'm convinced he rather enjoyed that."

"Oh probably. Still, he was quite devoted to her."

"Yes, at least one of them was."

"She thought he was dead!"

Jareth shook his head. "That's no excuse. But I am thankful he went out into the world and made a name for himself."

"What, as the dread pirate Roberts?"

The not-Goblin King chuckled. "Do you deny you found him more attractive when he shed the subservient farm boy aesthetic for the man in black finesse?"

Sarah sputtered, "He was still the same person really."

Jareth quirked a brow. "Was he though? He exchanged a pitcher for a sword. Obscurity for power."

"Are you being serious? Anyway, shouldn't you identify with Humperdink? He's the villain after all."

"Villains are only villains by perspective. I doubt he thought of himself as a villain."

Sarah gestured at the television. "Are we watching the same thing?" Wesley was screaming in pain in the machine.

"Semantics." His mouth dipped. "I'll give you that he is a bit of an unlikeable ass and Wesley's much better looking."

Sarah couldn't stop a small smile.

At some point Toby wandered in, standing in the doorway for a moment, before wordlessly joining them. He sprawled into their father's well-loved lazy boy – relegated to the intimate obscurity of the family room when Karen had moved in. He tossed a few kernels of popcorn at his sister but then quieted to watch the movie.

It afforded Jareth the opportunity to see the siblings interact. Throughout the movie they echoed or even anticipated lines to each other.

"Get back, witch!"

"I'm not a witch, I'm your wife!"

Jareth's was amused. "I begin to understand the way you both speak a little more now."

"You must have seen it before," Toby replied in surprise.

Jareth shook his head. "But it has been very illuminating."

" _How_ have you not seen it? Everyone has."

"They don't have it in-"

"Australia," Sarah finished quickly.

"Okay," Toby looked unconvinced, "but it's one of Sarah's favourite movies. She must have made you watch it before."

Jareth wrapped his arm around Sarah's shoulders. "We haven't had a lot of time for watching movies." He received a sharp elbow jab to the ribs in response.

Toby's face was slow to screw up in understanding. When it did he tossed a cushion at them. "Gross."

"He's joking!" Another jab.

"Ah, I see they are storming the castle now." Jareth's tone conveyed mock surprise. "Another mark in its favour, no doubt. You've never been much for sovereignty."

* * *

The next morning Sarah woke again to the feeling of cozy warmth. To the vague memory of having finished the movie, fallen asleep and then twining round something solid. Limbs entangled and fingers curling over the swell of her hip. Something that just felt right.

The bed was empty however. For a moment she simply stretched and sprawled, enjoying that ephemeral of feeling of nothing mattering. The freedom of holidays and winter, when staying in bed seemed less lazy and more an expected indulgence.

No half naked Goblin Kings appeared. She wasn't sure if was disappointed or not. She was worried however. If he wasn't in the shower and not in her bed – Sarah's thoughts hiccoughed briefly – he was _somewhere_. Somewhere not here. Which meant it was somewhere else. Perhaps with someone elses. Like her family. Worry turned to panic. She threw off the covers and dashed downstairs, not bothering to brush her teeth or hair first.

When she barrelled through the bi-swing door into the kitchen, Jareth, dressed impeccably, was seated at the kitchen table.

Sarah exhaled.

Karen was seated beside him, the old vinyl covered family photo albums spread out.

She sucked that breath right back in again.

"Sarah! Good morning. Oh don't you look cute. I told your father you'd like those penguin pyjamas."

"So cute," Toby whistled sarcastically, his brows waggling as he inhaled a slice of French toast.

She caught a look at herself in the reflection of the microwave. Not her best look.

"I was just showing Jareth some old photos."

"Thank you so much for that," she echoed Toby's tone. There was not enough coffee in the world.

"Yes, I particularly like the one of you with the – what was it called? – crimped hair."

Sarah scowled at him over the rim of her mug. "I don't think you can cast any stones there."

Karen and Toby both turned to look as Jareth's perfectly coifed style.

"It's a new look for him. You should have seen him when I met him."

The not-King turned a page in the album, his mouth quirking. "They still can."

"Oh, this is a cute one. Before I met her of course, but Robert calls this her nude phase. Refused to wear anything other than sunglasses."

"Pity that one ended." Jareth and Karen exchanged a laugh. "I assume that woman is Sarah's mother."

"Yes," Karen replied carefully, her eyes flickering back to Sarah. "She… ah, unfortunately passed away. She was a brilliant actress in her time though. And you can clearly see where Sarah got her looks."

The words were kind. The one thing Sarah could never accuse Karen of was saying anything against her mother, even if warranted. Sarah felt the back of her throat thicken and close as she tried to stave off the feelings of loss. Of a relationship that had never quite solidified.

"It's a pity Sarah never got to see her perform. That had always been the plan but then… the accident." Karen trailed off awkwardly. She knew how much her step daughter had dearly wanted to, how Robert had been planning to send her to London – by herself – for a visit. Hoping to salve old wounds. As it turned out, it would be too late.

Sarah turned to refill her cup, her face tactfully averted. Even Toby seemed cowed.

"Oh look, there she is wiggling her little bare bum at the camera."

"Hard to miss." Another page turned. "Now _this_ one is interesting."

Sarah turned at the change in his voice and approached the table. The picture was of her, about 15, in her medieval costume; her hair pinned up with flowers. She was clutching a red book and looking away. Practicing, no doubt, as she'd done all summer.

"She was a fierce force even then," Karen said generously. "So much will and determination."

"Indeed."

"It certainly made her into the successful woman she is today." Sarah smiled at her stepmother's compliment. At the whitewashing of her difficult if understandable behaviour.

Of course the whole effect would have been better had she not been standing in oversized penguin pyjamas with bed head and morning breath now masked by coffee.

Robert and Lizzie joined them shortly afterwards. It was December 23rd. The day of the Christmas concert. The decision was made to head to the mall for some last minute shopping beforehand. Namely Robert's as Karen had finished weeks ago. Lizzie also professed a desire to see "the sinful excesses of American greed in the flesh."

It was decided that Toby would ride with Jareth and Sarah, and Lizzie with Robert and Karen. Karen very much looked like she wanted to protest that arrangement.

It took thirty minutes to find a parking spot and once they found one another again in the entrance, it was another fifteen. They split up, agreeing to meet again at the in mall restaurant for lunch. Lizzie clutched her purse fitfully like she imagined every passerby was a potential thief. Toby disappeared to the electronics store almost immediately.

Jareth studied the map of the mall.

"How fiendish."

"Hmm?"

"This," he indicated the schematics. "Look at this all madness. Every turn leads you to yet another store. Here," he pointed, "they appear to want to feed you so you don't leave. Which would be difficult anyway as the exits appear to be virtually hidden."

"You sound impressed."

"I am," he agreed. "It's given me some ideas, in fact."

Sarah dragged him away. They wandered mostly aimlessly for a while. Sarah was both amused and annoyed by all the female attention he seemed to attract. On one circuit they passed Lizzie using one of the massage chairs. Her blissful expression suggested she didn't seem so entirely bothered by American excess.

They also passed her father considering a waffle iron. Sarah jogged up to him as he was pulling out his wallet and physically propelled him towards the jewellery store.

When she turned back around Jareth was gone.

"Oh shit." She wasn't worried per se, but a Goblin King loose in a crowded mall two days before Christmas seemed like a bad idea sounded rife with bad ideas.

She'd only just begun to panic when she heard distinctive male laughter.

She stopped dead when she finally spotted him in the crowd.

The mall Santa was on break. Jareth was seated in the vacated throne, looking every bit the monarch, despite his "normal" dress. Worse, he had an actual live giggling child on his knee. There were more children surrounding him. As though they'd been drawn in like some Pied Piper foolery. A woman looked like she was waiting to hand over her baby.

To the Goblin King. Willingly.

Sarah pushed through the throngs of people until she was at his side.

"What are you doing," she hissed.

"Listening to what they want for Christmas. They seem very intent on telling me." The child on his knee, in fact, had not stopped his list of demands.

"You're _NOT_ Santa."

"Neither is the man in the beard off to having 'a smoke'," Jareth replied dryly.

Sarah worried her lip. On the one hand it was utterly ridiculous. On the other, the children seemed entirely captivated by him. Their parents seemed completely unconcerned by the fact their kids were being entertained by a stranger.

A little girl, shy at first, asked for a few things before querying what he hoped for Christmas.

The not-king looked taken aback for a moment. Then he smiled conspiratorially. "Sometimes instead of waiting you have to try and make things happen on your own.

"Are you going to get it?"

Jareth chuckled. "I'm certainly working on it."

"If you're good you'll probably get it."

"Perish the thought," he winked.

"Well good luck," she said matter of factly.

The next little boy's demands were lengthy. He was on the point of finally getting down when he paused. "Oh, and I also like you to take my baby sister away and give me a puppy instead."

Jareth grinned.

"And that's enough!" Sarah plucked the squirming child off his lap and handed him back to a now frowning mother. "Santa's… er helper, here, has to go!" She strong armed the king out of the chair.

If looks could kill Sarah would have been dead.

"I don't think you're overly popular with children, precious."

"No more shenanigans. I mean it."

Jareth shot her a coy look. "Anybody want a peanut?"

When they passed Lizzie again, she was snoring in the massage chair. The salesman looked at a loss.

Sarah stopped to pick up a few more small trinkets for her family, but otherwise was loathe to go into any of the stores.

Lunch was fairly unremarkable, aside from one instant where a child walked by, saw Sarah, and burst into angry tears. Jareth seemed to find that particularly amusing.

By the time they got out of the mall and then the parking lot, made it home and wrapped their finds, it was almost time to start getting ready for Toby's school concert.

Karen had suggested a late dinner afterwards, and had instead put out appetizers so anyone wanting to snack beforehand could. Lizzie had launched into another lecture on the gluttony of colonials as she stacked her plate with cold cuts and ripened cheeses.

Toby came down the stairs in a pressed white shirt, black pants and a bowtie. His hair had been carefully slicked down by Karen. He looked, in a word, miserable.

Sarah shared a sympathetic look.

As they were bustling back out the door, Jareth pulled him aside. Wordlessly, he slipped the bowtie off his head, opened the first few buttons of his shirt and artfully mussed the teen's hair. When Toby caught sight of himself in the hall mirror his expression brightened.

"Confidence," the not-King chided.

The school was almost as bad as the mall. Parents clutched cameras and unwilling younger siblings with a look of frantic desperation. The school, usually cold due to the old boiler, was instead stifling hot. Staff members looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. The students, ranging from awkward to almost adult, looked a mixture of enthused and bored. Paper programs already littered the floor. The school council was selling cookies and something that looked suspiciously like McDonald's orange drink. Sarah saw one parent surreptitiously take a flask from his pocket and add it to the paper cup. Smart man.

Lizzie decried the fact that it was a "public" school. She shot a disapproving look at Karen and then a similar one at her nephew.

The lights flickered in the halls to tell parents to find their seats in the auditorium. The grumblings of adults too big to fit into the theatre style folding chairs followed.

The band, a mixture of the truly talented and those looking for another credit, was tuning up. Lizzie winced and Sarah noticed her turn off her hear aids.

Underlying all the chaos, however, remained the bright thread of excitement that always precedes Christmas where children are involved. Woven with it was the pride of parents for whom seeing their children succeed or fail was less important than just seeing them shine however briefly. Though Sarah was not a parent and had no intention of becoming one anytime soon despite her parents' prodding, she too felt a swell of pride in anticipation of seeing Toby shine. Toby who was not a little boy anymore. Who would be taller than her by next Christmas. Toby who each year would be less and less interested in his sister who was more than a decade older than him. She felt her heart seize almost painfully.

Jareth wordlessly took her hand. Her heart flipped in another way altogether.

The narrator, a girl of about 12 in glasses, cleared her throat at the mic. She introduced the show to a smattering of applause. The sound of video cameras powered up all around them.

The first act was a choral number, with three Christmas carols sung joyously if not adeptly. The next was a short moralizing story about the true meaning of Christmas – selflessness and generosity. Jareth seemed to find it particularly droll.

When the curtains swung closed and opened again a short time later, Toby was alone on the stage. He was perched on a stool, his usually gangly legs stretched casually before him. She heard Karen wonder where his tie had gotten to. Robert readied the cam. Toby's mahogany classical guitar was cradled gently in his arms. His artfully dishevelled hair shone in the stage lights.

Sarah saw his neck bob nervously and then he seemed to ready himself, whispering a word to himself that the mic failed to pick up.

The first notes were a touch unsteady, the warble of the strings, though not unpleasant, were unsure. And then his fingers remembered what they innately knew and the next few notes rang with brilliant assuredness. His first piece was Carol of the Bells. Even without accompaniment it held all the power and resonance the song possessed. The crowd, usually a bit distracted, had fallen into rapt silence. The applause at the close was genuine.

Karen was openly crying. Not some soppy sobbing but those bittersweet silent tears of maternal joy. Lizzie was beaming, having obviously turned her aural device back on. Her father met her eyes and they exchanged a knowing smile. He hadn't turned the camera off, wanting to catch the accolades as well.

" _I'd heard there was a secret chord_

 _That David played and it pleased the Lord_

 _But you don't really care for music, do you?"_

Toby's next song was Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, Sarah realized with surprise. Either the concert director was refreshingly liberal or didn't fully know the words of the song.

From her vantage, Sarah could see a girl, perhaps the same age or a year to two older than Toby, standing just behind the curtain on the stage. She was watching Toby with a rapt expression on her face. Toby, still expertly plucking the strings, canted his head slightly more than once – as though confirming he knew she was there. Sarah's eyes flicked back and forth between them.

She felt her own face grow wet. His voice, in that precious place between manhood and youth, captured the longing of the song. When Toby got to the lines,

" _But remember when I moved in you_

 _And the holy dove was moving too_

 _And every breath we drew was hallelujah"_

Sarah saw Lizzie's brow furrow.

When the song ended there was a moment of awkward silence. As though people were remembering how to breathe. And then the auditorium heard more applause than it had in its forty years of Christmas concerts.

Toby's face instantly reddened, returning him from stardom to boyhood, and he ran a hand through his hair nervously as he bowed. His eyes crept back to stage right.

The not-Goblin King was clapping beside her. His face held a similar sort of pride. As though Toby's success had also mattered to the mercurial being.

During intermission the entire family hugged a still red-faced Toby. He received lots of other friendly pats on the back as well. Toby's music teacher came over to offer compliments to the family. Toby beamed. It was his moment.

Sarah saw Lizzie stuff a few religious pamphlets into the information display. Jareth accepted a paper cup from Karen, took a sip, and then grimaced, his face screwing up in confusion at the contents. His cup disappeared a moment later.

Toby's eyes kept scanning the crowd. Sarah took the opportunity to start self-deprecating story about one of her Christmas concerts gone awry and subtly motioned for Toby to disappear.

When the show resumed there was a general sense of contentment and joy in the Williams' family. It turned to quiet confusion when no one could spot Toby in the group number.

Sarah frowned.

Jareth's face, which had been blank, perhaps even bored, tightened for a moment. His jaw ticked. He glanced at Sarah and whispered a brief 'excuse me' before withdrawing. Sarah watched him go, her frown lingering.

It didn't take long for Jareth to find the missing boy in a poorly lit part of the school.

Toby was hunched against a set of lockers. His hair was even more dishevelled. His shirt, instead of being artfully open, was now missing buttons. A few droplets of blood splattered in stark contrast to the white.

A group of three older boys surrounded him. Two seemed content to merely taunt him. The third, a taller thick set boy with dark hair, delivered another fist to Toby's middle. He was wearing a varsity jacket.

"How does that feel, you little faggot."

His friends laughed. "Make him sing soprano, Shawn."

The boy named Shawn gripped Toby's hair. "I told you to stay away from my sister. Let's see how many girls you get without balls."

Toby struggled valiantly. "Hold his arms, guys."

Jareth stepped out of the shadows. "What do we have here," he asked in a dangerously low voice.

* * *

 **AN:** What's that? Jocks picking on the artistic kid trope? Check. (I wouldn't want to be them right now)

It goes without saying that faggot is a terrible slur. But it's keeping with the 90s in high school.

Hope you all had a fantastic New Years!

We celebrate Hogmanay (Scottish New Year's). There's a big celebration (the biggest in the world outside of Scotland) downtown with live music, haggis, and dancing. It's fantastic because they countdown the New Year at 7pm (midnight Scotland time) so parents of kids (like us) can get them home to bed. The party continues for those without kids. My husband gets to rock his kilt, as does my son. Plus it's probably the only place in the world where you can get haggis poutine. Best of both worlds. It's delicious.

So obviously I had hoped to finish this story before 2019 but I aim to get this finished as soon as possible. I need to turn my attention back to my other WIP, but this has proved too fun to stop. Sorry, TW fans.

It also goes without saying (but I'll say it) thanks for all of the love! Here's to a wonderful 2019.


	10. Snow Balls and Snow Globes

" _Snow flurries began to fall and they swirled around people's legs like house cats. It was magical, this snow globe world."_

 _ **Sarah Addison Allen**_

* * *

The trio looked over, their faces all betraying surprise. The two holding Toby's arms released him and appeared ready to bolt. The third, Shawn, recovered and stood up straighter.

"Who's this then? Your boyfriend?"

He was roughly the same height as Jareth, and decidedly thicker. He evidently wasn't bright enough to recognize the inherent threat.

"Hardly," Jareth lips twisted briefly. "I'm just curious why it takes three to handle a skinny boy of thirteen."

Shawn's face turned ugly. He eyed Jareth's finely cut suit. "You're no teacher. Why don't you fuck right off before we decide to stick it to two faggots instead of one?"

The not-king laughed openly. "How your words betray you, boy. How about instead you and your friends walk away from here while I'm still feeling generous."

Shawn sneered. "How about I wipe that smile off your face."

Toby was following the exchange with wide eyes. His lip was noticeably split.

"Did your sister ask you to do this?"

Shawn looked confused for a minute. "What?"

"Your sister. Did she ask you to protect her from this boy?"

The older boy scoffed, patting Toby's face patronizingly. "Like he even knows what to do with a girl."

"I see. Then you've decided your sister's wishes don't matter." Jareth pointed a gloved finger. "This is all about you."

"What the fuck are you even on about?"

"You're doing this because you can. Because it's easy. Because it makes you feel powerful. That's a desire I can understand. The problem is, Shawn, in actuality, all you've done is make yourself look weak. Such a pity your sister didn't think to wish you away."

Toby's broken lip trembled in confusion.

"You're wasting my time, dude." Shawn's friends had abandoned all pretence of having their friend's back, their latent prey instincts warning them to flee. "whatever, if I don't take care of this little fag now, I will later, eh Toby?"

"Oh, I don't think so, Shawn." Jareth's face took on a serious cast. "All I have is time. And I assure you that you won't be bothering my young friend again."

Shawn laughed. "What are you gonna do, tell the teachers? I've been suspended before. I've already got a football scholarship. I'm their star player. They aren't going to do shit."

"No doubt. But I have every intention of handling this myself."

Shawn eyed him up and down and then spread his arms wide mockingly. "Give it your best shot."

Sarah, curiosity finally getting the better of her, had likewise excused herself. She'd wandered until she'd heard voices. She'd been on the point of rounding the corner when she'd caught the snippets of the exchange. Her first instinct had been to run in and defend her brother. Her anger had been palpable as she'd taken in her brother's abused condition. Something made her hesitate however. To dip back into the recess and watch.

"I don't hit children." Jareth looked bored.

"I'm eighteen. Scared now?"

"Not in the least. _You_ very much should be."

Shawn snorted and then, using his athletic skills, swiftly turned and sucker-punched Toby. The boy doubled over and gagged. "How about now?"

"You shouldn't have done that," Jareth t'sked.

Before he could do more, Sarah - unable to do nothing any longer - swept between them. She punched Shawn without hesitation, with enough force to make his head jerk back.

Used to hits he recovered quickly, his face turning smug. "Assaulting a student?" He rubbed his jaw. "See you in court, bitch."

"I look forward to it," Sarah hissed.

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary." Jareth appeared amused at Sarah's outburst.

Shawn levelled a thick finger at her. "Wait… I know you. You're his big sister. This just gets better and better. Need a girl to fight your battles for you, Toby." He faked towards Toby and then swung for her instead.

Two things happened at once. Sarah ducked and Jareth caught the youth's arm in a bruising grip.

Shawn looked shocked, but vainly tried to free himself.

"You _really_ shouldn't have done that." In a flash, Jareth was every bit the Goblin King. The glamour, which had muted all his otherworldly features, fell. Shawn sucked in a breath and his neck bobbed.

Toby's eyes widened as everything finally clicked into place.

"I'll see you later," the Goblin King promised darkly. And then Shawn disappeared.

Sarah spun, her own eyes wide.

Jareth, "normal" again, adjusted his cuff links as though none of it had happened.

"What did you do?" There was panic mixed with approval in Sarah's voice.

"Just given him a little coronation as the prince of the land of stench."

"You didn't!"

"Never doubt me, Sarah. Be thankful I restrained my creativity."

She chewed her lip. "But his parents…"

"Will enjoy their first Christmas in… what was it? Eighteen years in relative peace I suspect." He sighed at her pointed expression. "I'll let him go. After a little chat I think."

"But the smell…" Sarah still sounded like she wasn't sure which way she wanted it to go.

"Will fade," he replied easily. "But don't let that particular secret out. Makes the threat less effective. Of course, a little something always remains. He'll spend his life always feeling like he didn't apply enough deodorant. Always wondering if something around him has spoiled. It should serve as a very healthy reminder."

"You have all the answers don't you."

"Just never the ones I want," he replied seriously.

"You…" Toby trailed off. "I do know you."

Sarah looked panicked.

Jareth sighed. "Fine." He smiled at Toby, and straightened his shirt, brushing the blood from his shirt like it was dust. "Not yet, you don't. It really is exhausting living up to your expectations."

Toby's face grew blank and then cleared. He winced and touched his lip. "What happened?"

"You stood up to someone called Shawn."

Toby turned white and looked around. "Oh my god. I did? He's going to kill me."

Jareth began leading them back to the auditorium. "Not likely I think. He had a change of heart so that I suspect when next he sees you he'll keep his distance."

Toby's parents and Lizzie met them in the hall, all of them looking concerned. Sarah jogged up to reassure them.

Toby looked doubtfully at the not-King. "Really? My head feels kind of fuzzy."

"You hit it on the lockers."

Toby nodded slowly. "Right. I remember. But Sarah always says never use violence to solve your problems. It's the sign of a weak mind."

"Does she," Jareth sounded amused. "I know an entire city that would beg to differ."

"What?"

"What? Go see your parents, Toby." Behind them a girl was watching, her face easing into relief when she spotted Toby. "Ah, I think someone else is waiting for you too, young man." Toby touched his lip in embarrassment. "Don't fret on that account. In fact, I'd suggest milking that for all it's worth."

Toby received the requisite amount of unwanted fussing from his mother and the perfect amount of much desired fussing from the unfortunate sister of Shawn.

When they arrived back home for a late dinner, the atmosphere had returned to the bright expectation of Christmas.

Sarah kept favouring her right hand. Jareth took it and massaged it gently. "That was a rather impressive hit."

She winced. "Yes, remind me not to do that again."

"It _is_ the sign of a weak mind."

Sarah sputtered indignantly and then laughed. "We don't all have bogs at our disposal." She grew serious. "Thank you. By the way."

"You're welcome. It was the least I could do." He sounded almost disappointed. Like he would have relished doing much more.

Before she could think better of it, she leaned in kissed him. Not on the mouth, though truth be told it had been tempting. Instead her lips found the sharp edge of his cheek. It was brief and not in the least salacious. Just lips to skin. The not-King sucked in a breath nonetheless, his eyes strangely dark and hooded when she pulled back. Like it had moved him more than their living room fumbling.

He leaned in, his intention writ large in his expression. Sarah realized in the same moment that she wasn't going to move away.

"Supper," Lizzie announced sternly from the doorway, her eyes castigating them both. "Though what heathens eat their tea at this hour, the Good Lord only knows!"

Karen's late supper was a delicious casserole, and they all tucked in. Robert was particularly happy to wash the taste of "orange waste water" out of his mouth with a full bodied Merlot.

Dinner talk mostly centered round the concert, with Toby equal measures embarrassed and chuffed by their praise.

"So I hear you both enjoy Renaissance Art," Lizzie said as they enjoyed after supper drinks.

"Um, yes," Sarah replied carefully. "But no one wants to hear about that."

"Oh, but I would. Did I never mention that I taught art history at the convent?" She sipped her sherry thoughtfully. "My favourite was Titian. How do you like him?"

"Er… he's wonderful of course."

"And yer favourite?"

"Um…" her mind blanked, "probably da Vinci."

"Hmm. A rather predictable answer." Her sharp eyes turned to Jareth. "And yours?"

The not-King considered her. "I enjoy Titian but I prefer the dark realism of Caravaggio. He captured the grotesque quite well, don't you think?"

Lizzie nodded, her brows rising. "I do in fact. But what do you think of Brunelleschi's style?"

They continued back and forth until Sarah was pretty sure he'd almost made a convert of Lizzie. He at least was matching her equally. Her aunt had not bothered to seek her opinion at all in fact. Robert began to doze at the table. Toby and Karen had begun a game of Rummy.

"Ah, but I don't think you'd be such a fan of Tintoretto had you known him in person," Jareth remarked. "He was call Il Furioso by the Venetian prostitutes as well. He also had the worst breath at all times."

Lizzie's eyes narrowed. Sarah's widened. Robert snored on undisturbed.

"I'm sorry, how would you know that?"

Sarah panicked. "He's read about him extensively."

Lizzie frowned. "Has he?"

Jareth grinned, a little too widely, at the older woman and said nothing whatsoever.

Once back in the bedroom, Sarah rounded on him. "You have to stop doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"Don't play innocent with me. You know exactly what. We just have to make it through another few days."

Jareth's face hardened. "And then what? And then you'll have used me again at your convenience."

Sarah bristled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Who's playing innocent now, Sarah?"

"This was a contract. _Nothing_ more." Only partially a lie. Perhaps more than partial. One she was inexplicably clinging to.

"Was it? Yes," he replied darkly. "I suppose it was. Let's not forget we haven't established payment."

She pulled covers from the bed and dropped them on the floor. "Use your magic to find somewhere else to sleep."

"Perhaps I'll actually get some them. Without your needy little body fastening itself mine so desperately."

Sarah recoiled and disappeared to shower. When she returned the room was empty. And when she finally fell asleep in the bed, the small double had never felt so large.

* * *

Jareth was back by breakfast. She was admittedly relieved. Whether he'd slept on the floor or elsewhere, he'd certainly not been in the bed. He was dressed impeccably again but his expression was closed, shuttered. Enough that Karen kept directing them both worried looks.

As always Robert's practice was having its annual Christmas Eve party. Complete with catering, music and dancing. Karen hated it, quite rightly pointing out that the 24th was never a good night for families. But it had become tradition. And the libations drinks were plentiful. Lizzie insisted that if they were to go to the "den of iniquity" the family must attend midnight mass afterwards. She'd looked pointedly at Jareth as though she expected him to recoil like a vampire. Karen agreed quickly, using it as an excuse to leave the festivities at a reasonable hour, earning her rare points in Lizzie's book.

Despite the frostiness between the two, Christmas Eve passed as it always did, in that disparate place between time standing still and moving almost too quickly towards Christmas. Karen flew about the house putting last minute sprigs of holly in every nook and cranny. Robert had disappeared to wrap what Sarah hoped was something tasteful in gold and not a waffle iron. Karen owned three. Toby had been tying up the phone all day, disappearing with a red face when anyone passed him. Lizzie, between naps with Peaches, had started to make some of her own Christmas delicacies, ready with a spoon to affectionately slap anyone who dared sneak a taste. The snow had even started falling softly, in those big fluffy flakes that seem to defy physics. In short, it was a sickening pastiche of the perfect Christmas.

Enough that Sarah had begun to mellow. She felt a shade of guilt. Not that she trusted him entirely. Far from it. But she'd enjoyed his presence more than she'd expected to. Certainly more than was probably wise. And it would all end eventually. Like a dream. A few days after Christmas. When time sped up again and the magic waned again.

She found herself searching for him before she could think better of it. When she did, it was in an unlikely space. He was standing outside, wrapped only in a coat and scarf, staring up at the sky. He was so still he looked as though he was a part of the winter scene. His short hair was lifted in the wind and covered in large flakes of white. She could easily imagine it longer. Trade his modern coat for a cloak.

Sarah pulled on a coat and slipped outside, siding up to him silently.

"It's beautiful." She spoke softly. Not meaning to startle him or disrupt whatever solitude he sought.

He nodded.

"… about last night…"

He waved a hand, as though cutting off her train. "I'm not what you wanted."

Sarah's breath puffed out in a thick mist. She wanted to say that being home was magical and stressful at the same time. That it, and he, had frazzled her nerves. That she'd had too much wine.

"Not the average boyfriend you wanted to bring home for Christmas," he qualified, but his vague more loaded statement remained.

"No, you're not," she said carefully. "But it's… better I think. And you've been," she thought of Toby's performance, Karen's Joy and her father's ease, "wonderful. In your way. It must be hard to be somewhere so mundane compared to what you're used to."

Jareth looked down at her owlishly, his eyes still guarded. "I've enjoyed myself too, Sarah. In ways I'd thought no longer possible. It's been… peaceful. I quite expect to return chaos, in fact. I've been so," his eyes flicked down, "distracted here, I even forgot to perform the Winter Solstice ceremonies on Long Night."

Those would prove to be prescient words, but in the moment they were forgotten when a hard lump of snow connected with the back of Sarah's head, exploded, and showered them both in a spray of cold and wet.

Sarah turned and scowled at her brother. He crowed back. The Goblin King turned slowly. Toby's smile faltered.

What followed was an epic battle by any standards. Despite the initial volley striking both Sarah and Jareth, as with Risk, there proved to be no allies in snow ball fights. It was every mortal and king for themselves.

Sarah tackled Toby at one point, forcing his face into the soft bank. She then dashed away from him, laughing.

Despite having more practice, the Williams were no match for a king, who seemed to be quite impossibly adept at striking them at all times. At one point Toby blinked snow out of his eyes, and cried, "how was that curve even possible?! It was a ninety degree angle around the house!"

In another instance the tree above Toby and Sarah's head conveniently decided to relieve its load at that exact moment, burying them both with enough force to knock them off their feet.

"What the he-" Toby mumbled through a mouthful of snow.

Intent on revenge, Sarah dove for the laughing king and drove them both to the ground. Jareth could have easily avoided the attack, but never one to overlook an opportunity when it so generously launched itself into his arms, let himself be tackled. He caught a stray elbow to the ribs for his troubles, but otherwise the soft weight was rather welcome.

She laughed at the impact they made, snow shooting up around them fireworks. She tossed a mittful of cold flakes in his face, her expression triumphant. He gripped her elbows and rolled them, Sarah squealing as she ended up with the cold bed at her back instead.

Her cheeks were red from the wind and exertion; her dark hair forming a halo against the white. Her eyes were dancing. She looked happy. The Goblin King found his breath stolen by something other than the cold. Without waiting for permission, his head dipped and he kissed her.

Their breath mingled warmly, despite their frigid skin. Jareth felt her still for a moment before she softened, her mouth opening in invitation. Her hands curled into his sides - clutching.

And then they were both showered again by a deluge of snow. This time with a few chunks of ice in it. She saw Jareth jerk back, his lips curling into something almost feral.

Toby was holding a now empty shovel, laughing in deep bursts, like he couldn't quite catch his breath. "Get a room!"

For a moment, Sarah was certain she was once again going to become an only child.

Her hands tightened on the king. "It's Christmas," she warned.

"Lucky for him."

Sarah slid out from underneath him. He looked like he very much wanted to drag her right back again. It made her heart do that ridiculous flutter again.

She dragged her brother back inside.

The family dressed for the party not long after. Sarah stared at her closet, hands on hips. She'd brought an array of clothes, several of them fancy. One in particular - a deep red, almost burgundy sleekly cut dress. The length was modestly cocktail, and it was a high boat neck, but the back dipped dangerously low. The fabric was covered it tasteful wrought crystals of the same colour. Just enough to always catch the light. It has cost more than her rent. She left her hair down and her makeup was tastefully done to compliment. She donned slinky heels to match.

When she made her way downstairs, Karen beamed.

"You look gorgeous, Sarah." She was secretly thinking that if ever a dress would get her grandchildren that would be it.

Robert murmured something fatherly. Even Lizzie had been complimentary, deeming it respectable enough. She'd crossed herself when she saw the back.

Jareth's face, however, had made Sarah's pulse skip. He'd offered her a slow grin, one that had started in his eyes before reaching his mouth. It was a purely hungry look that made Lizzie cross herself again.

Sarah had been dressed in mostly jeans and sweaters, not to mention penguin pyjamas, until now. It was somehow gratifying to see his reaction to her "all dolled up," as her father had said.

For his part Jareth was equally decked to the nines. His black tailored suit was cut to the inch. His shoulders look broad and his waist narrow on his lithe frame. The fabric had a subtle sheen to it, so that when he turned it shone almost blue. On anyone else it wouldn't have worked. His cufflinks were a deep jeweled black.

They both recoiled at the flash. Karen lowered the camera, grinning ruefully. It was like her prom all over again. Sarah felt a moment of panic.

They all filed into two cabs a few minutes later and were off to the party. Sarah felt a bit like a character in a snow globe. One that was about to be shaken.

* * *

 **AN:** What's that? A ball?

I totally borrowed the snowball fight from Tanglewood (and like every Hallmark movie ever). It is a truth universally acknowledged that snowball fights and flirting go hand in hand. #truestory #notsorry

Of course it was Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah last chapter! It's Cohen's song (as much as I love other versions too) and he is Canadian. We like to represent :)

Shout out to the yellow flower for bringing up Winter Solstice. It ties into an upcoming scene.

My high school had a few bullies like Shawn – yes, he was a little trope-y and hyperbolic – but sadly kids do get beat up for THE worst reasons. It really can be Lord of the Flies. Enjoy the bog, Shawn.

I can't wait for the party scene next chapter, not to mention MASS, and gifts on Christmas morning. What could go wrong? *rubs hands together*

p.s. I saw Mary Poppins today with the kiddos tonight. I highly recommend.


	11. Blue Christmas

" _There comes a time in every woman's life when the only thing that helps is a glass of Champagne."_

 _ **Bette Davis**_

* * *

When they arrived at the party – the convention room of an upper scale hotel – the festivities had just begun. Waiters circulated with flutes of Champagne and trays of hors d'oeuvres, which Lizzie declared weren't fit for human consumption. Sarah had knocked Toby's hand away from the bubbly three times within the first ten minutes.

The band was live and seemed to be the bastard child of a mariachi band and a swing band, which sometimes moonlighted as a cover band of 60s to contemporary music - as though they weren't sure which hat to wear so had decided to stack them all. Sarah usually hated these events. Almost yearly since she was 17 she'd inevitably been mistaken for her father's new wife – something which equally grated on Karen's nerves. And, as Sarah found, though she kept getting older the second and third round of wives stayed the same. The newest batch took particular interest in Jareth.

Most of the older partners were obnoxious at best and grope-y at worst. The articling students were either sycophantic little shits or so overworked they looked ready to collapse now that they ostensibly had nothing to do but enjoy themselves.

Still, Sarah was a sucker for Champagne, even the cheap stuff, and the hosts of the party were consummate snobs so it was decidedly not the cheap stuff. It could even legally call itself such.

Karen made the rounds of polite hellos. Despite also disliking the parties, she had impeccable manners and was an innate hostess. She always remembered names and faces. She'd been a paralegal before she married Robert, so she also understood the business better than many of the lawyers. She'd also endured her share of jokes that 'you're supposed to sleep with your secretary not marry her'. She certainly managed the warzone better than Sarah's mother ever had.

Having Jareth at her side proved to be rather fortuitous actually. She'd not yet been mistaken for Robert's new side piece and none of the brief hugs had turned into a potential lawsuit in the making. Which wasn't to say she wasn't prey to wandering hands. Jareth seemed determined to leave his hand on her lower back. Skin against skin. The dress, though modest from the front, left Sarah feeling almost naked from behind. The way his fingertips kept brushing along her spine made her shiver – something she blamed on all of the gaudy ice sculptures. It also left her hyper aware. It was somehow entirely innocuous and completely intimate at the same time. Sarah took another long draw of Champagne, enjoying the way the bubbles chafed her throat.

Lizzie had parked herself at one of the round tables. She had a plate of shrimp in front of her and her purse clutched in her hands. Apparently she considered a room full of lawyers as much of a risk as a mall full of potential thieves.

"Sarah," Karen called her over. "You remember, Chad." Sarah stilled, her face locking into a tight smile. Chad with the Camaro. She drained her glass before turning.

"Of course. Merry Christmas, Chad. How are you?"

The blond smiled through bright veneers. "Sarah. Looking absolutely killer as always." His eyes began a slow perusal of her form.

Chad was the son of one of the partners. One of the suitors Karen had once thrust in her face. Karen who had to have been drunk at the time. It wasn't that Chad wasn't handsome – he was – in a frosted tips and fake tan kind of way – it was that he knew he was handsome and had never bothered to develop a personality as a result. He also considered commodities more valuable than say, actual interests. When they'd first met he'd told her about his new car within minutes. As though that had been the key to getting her panties off.

Sarah took another drink off the tray of a passing waiter. Jareth raised a brow.

"I'm well, I'm well. Passed the bar. No longer articling," he said with a smarmy smile. Sarah wanted to ask how long it had finally taken him. The last she'd heard he'd failed the LSATs three times. Not that it mattered when you had his kind of money. "New car too. It's a Jag." He waggled his brows. "Love to take you for a lift in it."

"How rude of me. This is Jareth. My boyfriend." It was the first time she'd said the words aloud together. Though boyfriend, regardless of the ruse, didn't sound right. Like it was too juvenile. You didn't have the Goblin King as a boyfriend.

Chad looked momentarily taken aback. He looked the not-king up and down before remembering his breeding. He held out a hand.

When they shook she could see Chad squeeze particularly hard. Jareth was amused.

"So this must be a new develop. Mother didn't mention it."

"Relatively," Sarah replied. "Though we've actually known each other for years."

"Ah, old friends. How charming." His tone suggested anything but. "And what do you do?"

"I run a large… company," Jareth replied.

Chad whistled. "Large? Then I must have heard of it."

"Unlikely," Sarah said quickly. "It all high tech IT stuff… in Australia." She turned to Jareth. "Dance. Do you want to dance?"

"Would you excuse us?" Jareth didn't wait for a response.

The band was playing Chris de Burgh's Lady in Red.

"How timely," the not-king observed.

Sarah cocked a suspicious brow.

"I assure you I had nothing to do with it."

When they fell into step it was as though time hadn't passed at all. Jareth's hand at her back gave her all of the gentle cues she needed to follow, as though it was second nature. For a moment, just a moment, buoyed by the Champagne and the lights and the snow that was still falling softly outside the large windows, they were back in the ballroom. Only this time Toby didn't stand between them. There were no ticking clocks. No blushing virgins.

Sarah's dress also meant that they stood closer than they had all those years before. Close enough that Sarah was keenly aware of how good he smelled. That scent that was recognizably male but uniquely his. It was the kind of moment she could get lost in. Where everything else dropped away. A rabbit hole on the dance floor. A Labyrinth without walls. And it felt right.

When the song eventually ended, they slid off the dance floor in laden silence.

"Won't be long before you're walking her down the aisle, eh Robert?"

They passed her father and a few of their friends.

"Always wondered if she'd settle down or just run from man to man like her mother."

Sarah winced. Not because of their outdated stances but because it _would_ all come to an end. She would definitely disappoint the ones that mattered - more than she'd planned. She'd disappoint herself too, she realized with a pang of regret.

She snagged another glass of Champagne fitfully and excused herself to the ladies to freshen up. More to take stock of the series of errors in calculation she'd made. The minimal touching rule had certainly all but gone out of the window.

When she made her way back onto the dance floor, her arm was snagged and she spun on her heels.

"Hope you saved a dance for another old friend." Chad was smiling at her blearily. His collar was now opened. It just made him look dishevelled by comparison.

Sarah wanted to tell him that he wasn't an old friend. Not really. And their one date had been a mistake. As well as the mild fumbling in his car that Sarah had noped right out of. It was Christmas however, and she was feeling magnanimous.

"Maybe later, Chad."

His grip didn't loosen. She looked at it pointedly.

"We could always catch up." He eyed her up and down again. "Pick up where we left off."

"Did you forget whom I'm here with? Did you forget how it ended the last time?"

He cupped her hand. "Don't see a ring on it, darling."

Sarah pulled her hand back. "Chad, _darling_ , you're drunk. And I am about five years past willing to deal with this. If you insist, I will. Publicly."

Chad's face soured. "You always were such a little stuck up bitch sometimes, Sarah. My family could literally buy yours. Thought the fact you weren't married yet would have softened you a little more."

At almost the same time they noticed Jareth's presence. He was leaned against a column, arms folded, watching them.

"Oh look, there's the lucky man himself. Come to defend her honour like some white knight?" Chad's words were ugly. Coloured by alcohol, embarrassment and likely uppers.

"I've never been very good at playing the hero, actually. Although lately I keep being thrust into that role. But no, I'm not here to defend Sarah. She seems quite capable of doing so herself. I'm just here for the free entertainment."

Chad snorted and raised his glass in a mock toast. "Good luck with the ice queen here. She's got great tits, at least" With his other hand he made a crass squeezing motion.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Go home, Chad. I'm not doing this here."

He hadn't made it very far before he sprawled on his face, his glass rolling across the floor. Aunt Lizzie, readjusted her cane back beside her chair and bit into a jumbo shrimp like nothing had happened at all.

"In truth I'd be more than happy to take care of him for you," he mused.

"What and play my hero after all?"

"Hardly. What I'd like to do wouldn't be remotely heroic." There was a glint in his eye that should have scared Sarah, but instead sent a little delicious thrill through her. "Though if it gets me closer to those "great tits" maybe," he added shamelessly.

Sarah sputtered on her Champagne and then nudged him. "It was once. I got the hell out of there before anything else happened. I'd had a lot to drink. Not that it is any of your business."

"More Champagne," Jareth asked innocently.

Sarah flipped her hair. "He drove a Camaro. Who could blame me?"

"I hear he drives something called a Jag now. Makes me want to take my own knickers off," he replied. Sarah laughed hard. Enough that Champagne snorted through her nose. He wordlessly handed her a handkerchief. "Poor Chad, missing out on such a prize."

"Shut it," she wiped her eyes, "before I forget who the good guy is."

"Good guy," Jareth mulled the title over. "Sounds terribly boring but I'll try to take that as a compliment. Surely it's an easy victory. Look at my competition."

"He's mostly harmless, but the bar is pretty low. Of course, the night's not over."

"Very true. And even Chad got a handful for a consolation prize, so I can't wait to see what I win."

"You sound as lecherous as the worst lawyers get here."

"The difference is I am _always_ this lecherous and all of my bits still work," he replied with an unrepentant grin.

"Is this how you talk to all the girls?"

Jareth's brow furrowed in mock thought. "I don't think we ever do this much talking."

"Because they all just fall at your feet?" Sarah teased.

"Something like that. None of the ones that matter sadly."

The glint in his eye made her face flush warmly. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Depends. Is it working?"

 _Oh yes._ "Mmm," Sarah instead offered an indifferent shrug. She averted her eyes carefully less they betray her. "Though Chad did one drunkenly sing Karaoke to me. That's pretty hard to beat."

Toby wandered over just then with a plate piled high with caviar. "If I take this home will they hatch into fish, d'ya think?"

"Not remotely." Sarah eyed what had to be hundreds of dollars of roe.

"Dang. Well I can bring it home to Peaches then." He scooped them into a napkin and then stuffed the leaking ball into his pockets.

"Oh my god, Toby, your mother is going to kill you! And I am going to watch."

Sarah really should have known better.

Never challenge a Goblin King, even in jest.

The band, which had been on break, started up again. The first few bars of "All I Want for Christmas" started. Working in PR and advertising, Sarah was already pretty tired of holiday music. She managed to zone most of it out.

Until she recognized the voice.

Wordlessly she handed her glass to Toby, who looked like Christmas had come early, and pushed through the party goers.

The god-damned Goblin King was singing.

A Christmas song. With lyrics like, "'I just want you for my own. More than you can ever know. Make my wish come true…"

She caught Karen looking weepy, clinging to her father like all she wanted _had_ come true.

It was a cheesy, saccharine gesture by almost every standard. But somehow the bastard made it work without looking ridiculous. His suit shone in the light as his hand cupped the mic expertly. He moved like he was made for music. Born to sing and own the stage. For the first time Sarah noticed just how exactly form fitting the suit was - especially the slim fitted pants. She wasn't the only one either judging by the female, or a few male, titters. Even Lizzie had taken off her glasses, polished them, and then replaced them.

He, however, only had eyes for her. They held a slightly challenging glint that asked, 'are you seduced now?'

It topped karaoke that's for sure. She dramatically rolled her eyes at him. He winked.

"… Sarah, all I want for Christmas is you."

He'd slid her name in. OH. MY. GOD.

Sarah wanted to die.

She didn't dare look at Karen. Karen who'd probably already put a deposit on the room for a January wedding.

She felt hands touch her arms gently like people around her were congratulating her. Those who had no idea who Sarah even was were still moved.

Sarah was caught between murderous thoughts and those of a warmer variety.

And then the song ended and she thought salvation had been delivered. Instead he started into another while the applause was still going strong.

"There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes…"

He wouldn't.

"A kind of pale jewel…"

He would.

The band had obviously picked up the chords enough to play along. Couples began to dance, moved by the slow melody. It was like the ballroom all over again with Sarah once more lost in a sea of revelry. Transfixed by him.

Sarah grabbed another glass, drained half of it, and then she set it down again. It had barely touched the table before Toby had scooped it up.

She was torn between being utterly charmed and annoyed. She'd been on the point of leaving the floor entirely when she felt a hand on her back. When she turned Jareth effortlessly swept her into step. The band had continued playing without missing a beat.

"I can't believe you did that," she said, needed anything to diffuse the silence.

"You issued the challenge."

"And this?"

His lips twitched. Which of course made her stare at his mouth. "A boy told me that a girl once kept a diary all about a Goblin King. And there was something about a dance and wanting said Goblin King to kiss her."

Sarah chewed her own lip. "Did she."

"Indeed. In fact he'd wanted to kiss her too, truth be told. But alas, she was too old to turn, too young to keep."

"Oh," Sarah said a little breathlessly.

"Too young to keep _then_." His eyes were so dark they were almost black. His face was so near.

She kissed him.

Partly because she didn't want to know what else he'd say and partly because she wanted to try and regain a measure of control. Her head swam with too much Champagne and conflicting feelings. A good many of them physical.

He was surprised at first, though his intention to do the same had been clear. All it did was make him want her more. She'd pressed herself so eagerly into his arms. His hands threaded through her silky hair and then slid down her bare back. It was very hard not to think darker thoughts. Of places he'd rather be. She nipped at his lip, tugging just a little, and his arms automatically tightened. It would be so easy to slip them both away… in a blink before anyone noticed. The temptation was heady.

Which meant, _of course_ , that something was going to interrupt them.

A firm finger tapped him hard in the arm.

They broke apart.

"Time for Mass," Lizzie announced pointedly.

Sarah turned a festive shade of red.

"We'll need to get home and get changed first." She eyed Jareth's hands still splayed across Sarah's bare back. "And get you out of that dress."

My sentiments exactly, Jareth thought bitterly.

They bid their farewells to the requisite few. Surprisingly even Chad had sought Sarah out, drawing her away for a minute to apologize for his behaviour. He even wished her well. Christmas miracles do happen, she thought.

* * *

When they got home a few wardrobe changes were made and then they shuffled back out to church. The nearest Catholic Church was actually walking distance away and the night mild enough that they walked. When they got inside it was five minutes to eleven. The choir was in full swing. They were luck to find a pew empty enough to accommodate them. The Church was packed. The C & E Catholics were out in full swing.

Lizzie had watched Jareth closely as they'd traversed the vestibule. As though she expected some great strike of lightning. When nothing had happened, she looked a bit disappointed. Jareth smiled at her.

As always with Midnight Masses, it was somehow otherworldly and joyful, and full of a pulsing expectation. The lines between faith and feeling merged, so that all people, regardless of belief, found a poignant kind of unity. Candles were handed out to everyone, the lights in the old church dimmed to almost nothing. Lizzie managed to keep her remarks about how none of them seem to know when to sit or stand to a minimum.

At one point Karen had whispered, wondering why it smelled like fish. Both Toby any Lizzie had looked equally guilty. Toby clutching a damp pocket closed and Lizzie clutching her very full looking purse.

For his part Jareth seemed likewise moved by the services. He was certainly quietly reflective during the hour, as incongruous as it was to see the Goblin King in a church.

When midnight struck, in time to the last song of the Mass, everyone in the characteristically quiet church cheered and embraced. It was officially Christmas Day.

As they filed out Lizzie seemingly made one last ditch effort and took some of the holy water in the font to bless the family, taking extra time to spray Jareth until he was decidedly damp. To her disappointment he only looked mildly annoyed by the gesture.

Once home they shed their outerwear, shared a quick nightcap to toast Christmas day, and then filed towards their respective beds. Sarah eschewed her penguin pyjamas, telling herself it was too warm for them. And that they needed a wash. Instead she donned a sleeveless nightgown in a deep blue. It was by no means racy lingerie but it showed a great deal more than the flannel sleep set. Her head now swam deliciously. She suddenly very much wanted to make some unwise decisions. It must have been reflected in her face when the Goblin King walked in wearing his silk sleep pants and nothing more. His skin was so pale in the winter moonlight.

He took in her new nightwear and his carefully neutral expression cracked. It was part naked hunger and part something else entirely.

"Sarah…"

She blamed it on the way he'd said it. The sound of his voice. The look on his face.

But suddenly they were together, arms entwined and lips to lips. She wasn't even sure who had initiated it. It was like death by a thousand cuts. Which one was the final stroke hardly mattered in the end.

She nipped at his throat, relishing the way his pulse ran so quickly. His hands slid across the silky material of her nightgown, skimming her ribs and just brushing the undersides her breasts. They dipped down and cupped her ass, his fingers curling into her soft flesh. He made a sort of guttural growl against her neck that sent an instant slick wave of heat between her thighs. Thighs that brushed against something long and hard and throbbing as she raised on her tip toes.

And then she wobbled on her feet. Not because she was off balance because the room had begun to spin just a little. And not pleasantly.

Jareth pulled back and sighed.

"You're very drunk."

Sarah frowned at the sudden distance between them. "Not that drunk," she argued, though it was hard to deny she was feeling off kilter. Or that she'd had too much to drink. She leaned in pressed her open mouth to his collar bone. Her hands skating across his bare chest.

He groaned. "You're testing my new found sense of right and wrong."

Sarah pulled back a little blearily. "Is this the part where you tell me that you're too honourable to take advantage of me and then things become awkward between us?"

"Hardly," he snorted. "I'm not in the _least_ honourable, Sarah." His eyes were still so dark and just a little too inhuman. "There is _nothing_ more I'd rather do than take advantage of you. It's all I thought about while watching you glitter in that dress. It's all I thought about after having you underneath me in the snow. It's all I thought about every night beside you in that ridiculous excuse for a bed. I'm no gentleman, Sarah. Certainly not if I thought it would serve my ends. But you're past that even those considerations, I'm afraid."

Sarah, who'd been having trouble following his words – words she'd likely find a shade disturbing – was about to protest. Instead she leaned over and promptly threw up.

"And there it is," sighed the long suffering Goblin King. "Merry Christmas, Sarah."

* * *

 **AN:** The end.

I'm kidding!

Blue Christmas. Get it? (I'm really a 14 year old boy). Cockblocking by vomit. That is a new one for me. I wanted to leave it deliberately vague as to whether or not Jareth would be a gentlemen (but consent matters, folks).

So there are a lot of fluffy bits to this pic that have made me scratch my head and go, who the hell wrote that? That's not your style, Vic. Like Sarah, too many Christmas libations? But #sorrynotsorry. It fit the fic. And Jareth is still, at base, as deliciously amoral as ever, if showing admirable restraint lol.

Shout out to Lusewing for the PM s/he sent me with the idea to use the karaoke and the song. Great idea and I hope you liked the spin I put on it.

I really did know a guy who tried to get me to date him because he drove a Camaro. Ughhhh. I am also a sucker for bubbly.

The other quasi self-insert was ice queen – I wore that like a friggin' badge of honour. #niceguysnotsonice

Lawyers really do have top shelf booze. My dad, uncle and great grandfather are/ were lawyers. And I as a teen(!) I used to get mistaken as my dad's girlfriend (he's quite young) by his lawyer friends. It was mortifying.

Christmas morn in the next chapter. We are definitely nearing the end but I do have some more shenanigans and some more *scenes* left to get to ;)


	12. The Gift

"Time is a very precious gift – so precious that it is only given to us moment by moment."

 **Amelia Barr**

* * *

"Merry Christmas, Sarah!"

She winced at the sound, her hand instantly trying to press the vein back into her temple. She gratefully accepted a cup of coffee a moment later. Karen offered a sympathetic look and passed along a bottle of Excedrin.

Sarah collapsed into a chair and swallowed two with a full glass juice. Her mouth was drier than the Sahara.

Snippets of the night before rolled through her head like rocks. Too many glasses of Champagne. The Goblin King singing. SINGING! Kissing him on the dance floor. Kissing him again in bedroom... Wanting so much more.

And then… her brow furrowed. Which hurt. A lot.

Oh, my god.

That had quickly becoming her tag line.

A vague memory of being carefully tucked into bed… her face being wiped with a cool cloth. Mumbling apologies.

Mortification settled over her like a thick blanket.

"Good morning." His voice, normally like velvet, chafed her ears like cheap polyester. She glanced up. He smiled back - annoyingly perfect. And annoyingly amused.

She'd showered in the morning but still felt entirely unfit by comparison. She rose jerkily and then whispered into his ear. "About last night. I'm so sorry."

"About what? Ruining what would otherwise have been a rather perfect night, or ruining a perfect pair of shoes."

A different kind of mortification settled.

"About that… I had way too much to drink and I-"

Jareth stiffened slightly. "Make poor decisions when you do. Yes, I do remember Chad." His pale brow arched, like he was disappointed in her. "It's forgotten already."

That wasn't what she meant. Not in the least.

Before she could add anything else, Karen pulled a tray of bacon out of the oven. "Grease. I need grease," Sarah said desperately.

Toby came bounding down the stairs as though drawn by the smell. The days of Santa were behind him, but the magic of Christmas morning remained. He looked a little wilted himself. Sarah eyed him suspiciously.

"Where is everyone? Look what Santa brought!" Robert called jovially from the living room. It was tradition. He always made a big show of it. Every year like clockwork. Regardless that both his children knew _he_ had always been Santa.

"The baby Jaysus came first!" Lizzie reminded sternly.

They all moved into the living room and settled into the various sofas and chairs. Robert began passing out gifts. The bottom of the tree was laden – Karen had obviously added more after they'd gone to bed…

…While Sarah was busy emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor. And apparently his majesty's brogues. She winced again.

Toby was highly pleased with the new video games Sarah had gotten him. Karen was notably relieved to find she'd not received another waffle iron. Even if her husband of 15 years had gotten her the wrong birthstone.

Lizzie had given everyone some beautiful prints from home. She'd also, to everyone's surprise, given Karen a pearl necklace. "T'was me mother's," she explained. I'd always meant to give it to yer mother," she looked at Sarah sympathetically, "but it suits Karen's colouring better I think."

Karen looked like she was going to cry.

"Plus those are good Catholic pearls mind," Lizzie added.

Lizzie also gave Sarah a lovely gold necklace with a finely wrought Celtic knot work pendant. "Also me mother's. Yer great granny's. You very much have her colouring."

Toby was quite satisfied by the 'heirloom' envelope of cash instead.

Sarah next opened a package from her parents which turned out to be polar bear fleece pyjamas.

"Since you seemed to like the penguins set so much," Karen explained brightly.

Jareth covered a laugh. "I've grown rather fond of them myself."

The smile slid off his face when he saw that he'd received a matching set.

"This one is also for Jareth. From Sarah," Robert said, passing the box over.

Sarah had almost forgotten then she'd purchased generic gifts after she'd placed the ad. It would look suspicious otherwise. There were an array of boring but acceptable gifts from Jareth to her under the tree as well. Things she could use or return, but would in no way be romantic or meaningful. She'd been very careful to write from and not love on any of them.

The not-king opened the box. It was a cardigan in the most basic and neutral colour she could find. Something Mr. Rogers might wear.

"How… nice."

The next box was a matching scarf in the same dull shade.

"Ah, and this one says to Sarah from Jareth." Robert handed the box over.

She opened it idly, expecting the blouse she'd picked out for herself, but then shut the lid with force. It was most certainly not a blouse. And certainly nothing she'd bought. "Thank you. Okay, what did you get, Toby?"

"Well show us, Sarah," Karen insisted.

"No, that's okay… really. There are so many other presents to open."

Her stepmother would not be swayed.

Sarah quickly lifted the contents and then stuffed them back into the box. Karen's cup rattled in its saucer. Lizzie sniffed. Robert pretended to see nothing. Toby looked mortified.

Red lingerie. Not a bright garish colour, like Sarah's cheeks had turned, but a deep burgundy that echoed her dress from the night before. It was entirely made of fine lace. Of obvious quality. As a result the material was almost entirely sheer.

"For when it's too hot for the penguins," Jareth remarked slyly. "Or now the polar bears."

"Just how feckin' hot do you think it gets here." Lizzie's brows met her hairline.

"It's very hot in Australia," Jareth replied smoothly.

Karen put her cup down excitedly. "So does this mean you're going to take her home for a visit with you then?"

Jareth winked as though now conspiring with her step mother. "The thought has certainly crossed my mind."

Sarah looked ready to bolt. Her headache had mostly faded but she was anything but relaxed. Lingerie. Really nice lingerie. In front of her parents. And great aunt. Wonderful. Just wonderful. If anything the hangover no longer seemed so bad.

"Oh, and another one for Jareth."

Sarah squinted at the gift. Should be a book on the Civil War.

The not-king unwrapped the paper.

Oh dear god.

The Kama Sutra.

Lizzie adjusted her glasses. "Is that an Indian cook book? I do enjoy a good curry takeaway. I also like best the books that teach you how to do things for yourself. Useful things."

"I couldn't agree more." Jareth didn't bother to hide the growling look of wicked enjoyment on his face. Not wicked. Sadistic.

Robert now looked ready to bolt. Toby looked torn between being rightly horrified and like he might like to get his hands on it. Karen, who'd been thinking that Christmas morning had taken quite the turn and those were gifts better given in private, segued into gauging her chances of a summer grandchild. Unlikely if they followed the particular illustration on the cover.

"I need more coffee!" Sarah declared loudly and then made her escape.

It was in the hall that she first heard the noises.

The noises that should not be.

She pushed open the bi-swing door into the kitchen. She was back on the other side of it before it had made its full pass.

Which was fortuitous because Karen had followed behind her.

"Just need to get the turkey in the oven." She made to move past her but Sarah blocked the way – hands going wide.

"I'll… I'll do it!"

Karen smiled and shook her head, intent on heading into the kitchen.

"No, no I insist! I've been… practicing. My cooking I mean. Like you always taught me."

Karen frowned. Lessons with teen Sarah had been brief and mostly painful for both.

Sarah affected an easy smile. "I remember everything you showed me. You rest. You've been the perfect hostess. Let me do this. I bet Aunt Lizzie wants a nap about now so you should have some peace and quiet before everyone arrives."

"Alright," she said doubtfully. "What's that noise?"

Sarah panicked. "Peaches. He does that. I've got this. It'll let me…" Sarah forced the words out. "Impress Jareth."

Karen nodded in understanding and disappeared with a wink.

Breathing deeply, Sarah pushed the door open again.

Absolute chaos. It looked like a scene from _Gremlins_. Only the gremlins were cuter.

Goblins. Everywhere.

They were in the fridge, no doubt eating the contents. They were in the sink. Bathing, it appeared, in Karen's homemade eggnog. One had turned oven mitts into boots and was walking the island like it was an Italian catwalk. One had locked another goblin in the oven and was playing with the dials. Sarah watched the pilot light flickering like it was a lighter at an 80's hair band concert.

A particularly toothy one had taken one bite from every single piece of waxed fruit in the bowl and put them back.

Her cat was in fact in the kitchen. That hadn't been a lie. Peaches, seeing her, shot her a look that said, "this fuckery again?"

"Jareth!" Sarah called shrilly.

The not-king appeared through a doorway a minutes later. "Karen said you were going to impress me with your cooking." He surveyed the scene and then deftly dodged what looked like a dish of sweet potatoes. "I must say your culinary skills leave much to be desired."

She turned and hissed. "FIX THIS. I have to get the turkey in the oven."

Sarah really should have known better. Jareth winced.

The goblins, having finally noticed their monarch and the girl who ate the peach were in the kitchen with them, quieted and listened dutifully. This meant they also followed Sarah's wildly gesticulating arm which pointed as the hitherto unnoticed bird defrosting on the sideboard.

What is a turkey to a goblin but a giant chicken?

The quiet turned to wails of outrage.

"Murderer!"

" _Her_ again!"

"She killed the giant chicken!"

"Burn the witch!"

"Jareth…" Sarah squealed, dancing behind him.

"Enough!" he commanded imperiously, sounding every bit the Goblin King even if he didn't look it.

The goblins fell back, a few still grousing. In the fading chaos that followed, a pair of goblins slid the bird off the counter and slipped outside. When Sarah finally noticed it was missing, a search was begun. It was found outside half buried in the snow. A wooden spoon had been used as a makeshift grave marker. "Big Chiken" was carved into. Or bitten into it more likely. Ironically they had used sprigs of rosemary as flowers. A pair of squirrels were already fighting over it.

Swearing, Sarah dug the turkey out. By that point, the skin was thoroughly torn and it looked like it had died in a cock fight.

When she got back into the kitchen, Jareth had scared his subjects back into submission. "I warned you all to stay away. I suppose it will be another year of boggings for Christmas then."

A particularly stunted goblin squeaked, "But… but… the solstice rituals. You missed them."

Jareth swore and then pinched the bridge of his nose. "How bad is it then?"

"Do you remember the winter of 1894?"

A look of horror crossed the king's face.

"Well, not as bad as that."

The king relaxed.

"But worse than the winter of 1736."

Jareth swore again.

"How old exactly are you?" Sarah asked.

"Not a good time, precious."

She gestured around the room incredulously. "You don't say!" She'd managed to get the turkey into the oven only after explaining they were cremating it. The butter and seasoning were just part of the funeral pyre.

Jareth snapped his fingers in irritation and the goblins disappeared as though they'd never been. Evidence of their visit remained, however. The timing couldn't have been better as Karen popped through the door a minute later. She stopped dead at the site of her ruined kitchen.

"Turkey's in the oven," Sarah offered weakly.

"Right." Karen drew a measured breath. "I'll… I'll just take over, shall I? You've cooked enough today." She directed a sympathetic look at Jareth.

He drew a frazzled Sarah out of the kitchen.

"This is all your fault!"

"For once, I am inclined to take the blame. I failed to perform a simple rite on Long Night to keep the balance in check. A renewal so to speak." He eyed her thoughtfully. "Though I _was_ distracted, so perhaps some of the blame still lies with you."

"Oh, no. Don't try that. _You_ didn't have to come here." Not that she was complaining if she were honest. Although the morning had not exactly added towards his favour.

"Would you like to see me do it?"

Sarah swallowed thickly. The low spoken words were a heady temptation that almost made her forget the kitchen and outrageous gifts. "If this is a way to trick me to the Underground, forget about it."

Jareth gave her a bored look. "If I'd wanted to 'trick you', I certainly would have already. Not that the thought hadn't crossed my mind."

Sarah couldn't tell if he was joking. "How long will it take? My parents always host an afternoon Christmas party for the family." Sarah had been in part dreading introducing him to more relatives.

"Not long at all. I don't even have to go 'home' for it, if that's what you're worried about." She wasn't. Not exactly. She'd actually like to see Labyrinth and its creatures again.

He held out a hand in invitation.

Sometimes it's just easier to dive in. "Okay." His fingers closed around hers.

A swift tug and a pull and the hallway gave way to a still dark early morning winter sky – the sun only just beginning to crown. For a moment she was disoriented. He hadn't lied. They were not in the Underground. They weren't in the US anymore, however, she realized as she recognized the site from photographs.

New Grange. Ireland.

"Oh, my god," she croaked. Though not as cold as home, the winds were blustering. There was a light dusting of snow that covered the passage tomb and the surrounding grounds. They were alone. She watched the sun begin to creep up the horizon. "But how, shouldn't it be late afternoon here?"

"Hurry now," he tugged her along the walkway. He was once again the Goblin King, encased in a long cloak lined in sable fur. Though she'd just been wearing a light sweater and jeans in the hallway, she was now encased in a similarly long fur lined cloak that repelled the sting. Archaic and beautiful. Just like ruins.

The warm glow of the first sunlight hit the ground at their feet. Jareth produced one perfect crystal. He said something in a language Sarah didn't understand and then released it. It hit the snow and then began to roll uphill and through the narrow opening into the tomb.

As though chasing it, the sunlight traced the path of the orb through the doorway.

Jareth led Sarah inside.

When the sunlight struck the crystal, it illuminated the entire space. The triskele spirals – so similar to mini labyrinths - on the wall glowed like spun gold. It was in a word, breathtaking.

Without meaning to she reached and touched the pattern. A pattern that was carved at Brú na Bóinne almost 5000 years before. Her palm tingled, not unpleasantly, but like static electricity that danced up her arm.

Sarah was in awe.

The Goblin King took a deep breath, as though the event had been profound for him as well. Perhaps rejuvenating. If anything he looked all the more imposing.

For a moment, just a moment, she could see the Labyrinth and everything below at the centre of the tomb. It would have been so easy to just pass through the veil. Sarah felt a pull to do so strongly – how easy it would be. She took a step forward.

The Goblin King watched her with hooded eyes.

She stilled.

A short while later the sun passed further and the glow faded, as did the other world. The clock struck a new time.

Sarah turned to the silent king. "How was even that possible? I thought solstice was only on the 21st?"

"Right now it _is_ the 21st." At her incredulous look, his lips twitched. "Perks of the throne. It won't last. Just long enough for the ritual."

As he spoke she felt another tug at her navel. Before she vanished she saw the skies begin to move as though time had been shaken back up, clouds and stars racing across the horizon in roiling colours.

They were back in the hallway.

Sarah teetered, off kilter. Jareth, looking almost human again, steadied her elbow. She was still wide-eyed. "I've always wanted to see that."

"You're welcome."

Then she frowned. "But wait… that's always a big tourist attraction. People come from everywhere to see it. There's even a lottery, Lizzie says. We were alone."

The Goblin King smiled. "Not really. They couldn't see us and we didn't need to see them."

"No…"

"Yes. In fact you were standing quite rudely on an older gentleman's feet the entire time. You would have blocked his view entirely."

"Are you serious?"

"Rarely. But right now yes. There are many such passage tombs… with many purposes," he added. "It wouldn't do to let the rabble know."

Sarah's eyes flickered thoughtfully. "Thank you."

"Now that the ritual is over, I have another gift for you. If you want it."

Sarah blinked at him.

"One I couldn't give you in front of your family."

A snort. "But you could give yourself the Kama Sutra and me gaudy lingerie?"

"You didn't like it? I thought it was rather tasteful in its way. And the colour suits you. I assumed it was your favourite in fact."

"This _other_ gift. Will I like it?" she asked suspiciously. "Or is it more for you."

"I think so."

Sarah nodded. Once again she felt an immediate disorientating tug and the hallway fell away to a new place - this time an opulent theatre. It took Sarah longer to recognize where they were. When she did it was only because of the woman on the stage.

Almost like looking into a mirror. Her mother.

Sarah gripped the polished rail of the box seat. They were in the Her Majesty's Theatre in London. Her mother, dressed in a white gown and hands on hips, was playing Beatrice in Shakespeare's, _Much Ado About Nothing_. She commanded the stage, her head thrown back and humour in her voice.

" _A dear happiness to women: they would else have_

 _been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God_

 _and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I_

 _had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man_

 _swear he loves me."_

Sarah clasped a hand over her mouth, smothering a laugh that turned into a choke. Tears welled and then spilled silently down her face.

It had been one of Sarah's favourites. She'd so desperately wanted to fly to London to see her. Where there'd been bruised hearts on both sides to be mended. Her mother had wanted to repair what leaving had done. Sarah wanted desperately to forgive. Her father had initially said no, as Toby was too young. She hadn't known til later that he'd made arrangements with Linda to send her by herself.

And then… then the accident. Before the run of this show was through. It was a tragedy that made the newspapers.

Sarah watched the play on the edge of the seat, her hand over her mouth most of the time. Her throat was thick – almost painful - and underneath the lines of the famous comedy she could hear her own heartbeat.

" _Do not you love me?"_ Beatrice teased Benedict.

 _I do_ , Sarah whispered so silently even Jareth failed to hear.

When the curtains fell and the applause began, Sarah's face was still wet. She stood and clapped loudly, wiping her streaked cheeks.

She turned and swallowed thickly. "Can I…" She wanted to ask if she could talk to her. She already knew the answer.

The Goblin King, who had been silent throughout, shook his head slightly. "It doesn't work that way."

 _Thank you,_ she mouthed. Her throat was still too thick to speak.

A moment later they were back in the hallway.

Lizzie came round the corner. "Sarah, dearest, are you all right? You've been crying!" She scowled at Jareth.

Sarah waved a hand in embarrassment. "It's all right. Just happy tears actually. Nerves really. Will you excuse me?"

When Sarah got upstairs she saw that she still clutched the program from the theatre, her mother's face on the cover. She touched it lightly and then pressed the program between one of her books.

The family was in the midst of preparing for the family to-do. None had seemed to notice their absence. Karen had premade almost everything. When Sarah changed into an off the shoulder sweater dress, and returned downstairs to help, there was little left to do. The kitchen had even been put back to sorts.

The first guests arrived shortly after. Aunts, uncles, and cousins on both sides. A few long-standing family friends who might as well have been blood.

The house was filled with laughter and good cheer. The tables were laden with food. The drinks flowed freely. Robert made them watch Toby's performance. Lizzie seemed to have mellowed and eschewed her nap to visit with the colonials. Jareth was passed around like a shiny new toy. He smiled affably at each new person, but his eyes kept training to Sarah. Sarah, who'd brightened after the bittersweet and precious gift, kept seeking him as well. They were together but apart, insulated by a room full of well-meaning relatives.

Sarah disappeared back upstairs at one point to grab her camera from her room. Someone had made it the coat room it seemed.

Just as she pulled it free, she noticed Jareth in the doorway.

He was watching her, his expression so enigmatic that she couldn't pin down one emotion.

"Thank you for that," she said finally. They'd barely had a chance to speak. "I don't really think I can explain how much that meant to me."

"Consider it a gift from the Solstice. I wouldn't have had the power to manage it otherwise."

"No," she stepped forward. "It was you. You've been quite amazing, really."

A brow arched. "You sound surprised."

"I am," she said ruefully. "Which is perhaps unfair. But also fair - I could have done without the other gifts." There was a trace of humour in her voice.

"Consider it repayment for my shoes."

"I-"

Whatever else she'd been about to say was swallowed by his kiss. His lips were firm and insistent against hers, like he'd been holding himself back and the bindings had just suddenly broken.

She was at first taken aback but quickly recovered and then did the only sensible thing. She kissed him back.

Her hands clutched at his shirt, and then slid along his shoulders to cup his nape. His hands slid to her waist and pulled her tightly into the cradle of his hips. She could feel him hard against her already. It sent a delicious thrill straight to her core.

His mouth traced a hot path to her neck, stopping to catch her ear between uneven teeth. Another shiver rocked her.

He must have backed her up to the bed, because she felt the mattress hit her knees and then she was horizontal. His weight settled over, a knee pressing between her thighs. She instinctively clamped around him. It was as though they'd picked right back up again after the party from the evening before.

The party below was nothing more than a dull din. Easily forgotten. They'd already spent enough time there.

Sarah began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers smoothly over the freed taut skin beneath.

Jareth's hands skimmed across her collar bone and then brushed her breasts through her dress. So lightly it made her quiver. And then he cupped her fully, his palm rolling the weight as he returned to her mouth, nipping at her lips before kissing her deeply. He deftly began sliding the dress down her shoulders until it sat just beneath her breasts.

"Wait, we can't do this now," Sarah croaked as reality sunk in.

But Jareth was staring at her chest – encased in deep red burgundy lace. So sheer, he could the tight furls of her nipples through the fabric.

When he looked back up at her, his eyes were fully dark, and his voice was rough. "You liked me other gift too, I see."

Before she could protest he bent and sucked one peak into his mouth hotly. And then he made that noise again.

Sarah's head fell back at the suckling sensation. The flick of his tongue and scrape of teeth.

His other hand traced a steady path between her legs, squeezing lightly as it reached the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

The door opened suddenly.

Jareth's head shot up and he tugged her dress back up. From Sarah's vantage upside down she could see the startled face of her brother. Though he couldn't see much, he'd obviously put two and two together.

The not-king pointed a finger, his expression murderous. "I _knew_ I should have turned you into a goblin." His voice came out in a half-feral growl.

"What?" Toby asked.

"What?" Jareth asked, as Sarah jabbed him in the ribs.

* * *

 **AN:** In which the author employs the cock blocking trope again. When I started this story I always knew Toby was going to walk in on them and Jareth was going to say _that_. #stillsorrynotsorry

Parts of this chapter got a little more maudlin than intended but I knew Jareth would give her that precious gift.

If you visit New Grange they will simulate the Winter Solstice for you. It really is amazing. Yes, I totally piggybacked the passage tomb thing from Goblin Market. As I like to say, I T.S. Elliot-ed myself.

One chapter left to go… would you look at that? One more will make lucky 13. I wanted to get this out yesterday on Bowie's birthday sadly lacked the time.

In that vein, asking for all of your good vibes if you would be so kind. This has been a… really rough week to say the least and I need a quasi-miracle for the near future.

Hope your 2019 is bright and merry. I know some of you readers are going through some very tough times yourselves, you know who you are, so I am sending good vibes your way as well

(I'm not saying there will be smut next chapter, but I'm not _not_ saying that either ;))


	13. Say Your Right Words

Warnings for lemons. Perhaps more er, ah… tart than I'd originally intended for an otherwise fluffy Christmas fic. Sorry? Or to quote, the GK, "You're welcome". This chapter is stupidly long because the OCD part of me wanted this to stay 13 chapters and I needed to say more than I thought. Like this should really be 2-3 chapters.

* * *

 _"Christmas is not a time nor a season but a state of mind."_

 _ **Calvin Coolidge**_

* * *

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" Sarah shrieked, her voice shrill in part because of who had walked in on them and in part because the Goblin King's hand was still very much without a reasonable doubt planted between her thighs.

Toby remembered to move and tripped backwards out the door, slamming it.

Before Sarah could do more than begin to process the overall mortification, two things happened.

Jareth ducked his head back to her throat while he hooked a finger into the lace of her panties, clearly intent on continuing as though the interruption had not happened.

And a tentative knock sounded on the door. "Um… actually I still need Uncle Frank's coat."

Sarah bucked out from beneath Jareth. He made a vain effort to keep her underneath him, having finally gotten her there after much effort and many interruptions, but instead caught a stray knee to the groin.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that man or fae, commoner or monarch, it is never a good time to get struck in the family jewels.

The not-King froze, his face contorting in agony.

Sarah fell off the bed in an effort to put distance between them, which wouldn't have been particularly painful had his finger not still been hooked in her underwear. A renting sound followed. She ended up on the floor with quite possibly the worst wedgie she'd had since that summer camp with Jessica.

"Come in!" Her voice had devolved to a squeak.

Jareth managed to sit up. Despite the pain, his expression looked all the more murderous.

Toby opened the door and entered. One hand firmly covered his face and he was by far the reddest of the three.

"We're fine now," his sister promised.

"Fine is a gross overstatement," Jareth remarked sourly.

Toby pulled the shaking hand from his face and did his best to avoid eye contact. He scanned the bed. "Erm, it's that one." He pointed a finger at a blue coat currently tucked under the Goblin King.

Jareth's eyes narrowed. He looked like he was very much considering bogging the boy. Or worse.

"Don't you dare," Sarah hissed.

"Saved by your sister. Yet again. How bloody convenient." Jareth passed the coat over.

Toby snatched it with an outstretched arm, as though he sensed just how close to demise he'd come.

Part of him wanted to point out that doing what they'd been doing – Toby didn't want to frame it properly in words – during a party on a bed full of guests' coats was not the wisest course of action if you didn't want to be interrupted by innocent brothers sent on errands. Or that the door had at least had a lock. He wisely refrained. In his short years he'd found that adults really hated it when those younger than them pointed out their errors. He also, leery of the figure glaring at him on the bed, didn't have a death wish.

"Um, Toby-" Sarah began.

"Saw nothing." If only that were completely true. "Let's just pretend this didn't happened. No need to explain. Let's not talk about it. I'm not here. In fact I wish I _was_ anywhere else but here." That was completely true.

Sarah saw Jareth's expression brighten considerably so she tackled him. "No, no, no, no, no! That's doesn't count!"

Jareth exhaled noisily. It bordered on a growl - like a lion denied a meal.

Toby backed away again but paused before escaping, his young face screwing up in confusion. "Did you… did you say something about turning me into a goblin?"

Karen called from the doorway behind him, "Did you find it, Toby?" She walked in a moment later. "Oh, Sarah. Jareth."

Karen catalogued the scene with experienced eyes. Toby was clutching a wool coat, his face suffused with red. Jareth was seated on the bed; expression rather stony. Sarah was picking at invisible threads on her dress and looking everywhere but at either of them.

"I see you did. Great. Run along and bring it to him, Toby." The boy reacted like he'd received the governor's pardon at the nth hour. He was gone in a flash. "But how silly of me to make this the coat room." She scooped all the coats into her arms until she buckled from the load. "Our room is much more convenient." Sarah began to protest, but her stepmother crab walked out of the room - kicking one fallen jacket along with her into the hall. The door shut with a click.

The lock engaged by itself a second later.

"Much better. Where were we?"

Sarah turned incredulously. "We can't do this now?"

"I can assure you there won't be any more distractions."

"Only because Karen probably wants grandchildren out of this!"

Jareth smirked. "A bit soon, but I'm game to practice."

Sarah pulled a face at him. For her the mood was entirely killed. Despite realizing that Jareth's shirt was still completely open. She pressed a hand to her forehead. There went any plausible deniability. "This could not be more awkward."

"Oh, it would have been decidedly more awkward if he'd come in in, say, ten minutes from now."

"Be serious! We've probably scarred him for life."

Jareth tossed a hand dismissively. "I suspect he's seen far worse already. But I can make him forget if you'd prefer."

"That doesn't seem to be working. He's been suspicious since you got here. And anyway _I_ will still remember." The whole thing was almost funny. Almost.

"I could fix that too."

It was Sarah's turn to look murderous. "Don't you dare!"

"Don't dare do this. Don't dare do that." He sighed dramatically. "How about the things I _do_ dare." Jareth snared Sarah's waist and drew her back towards him until she stood between his legs.

"We really can't." _Right now_ , she meant. The thought of Toby and Karen knowing what they were doing… it was worse than a cold shower. On the one hand a little funny, on the other not conducive to adult type touching. Far better to just return to the party. "We need to go downstairs. Pretend nothing happened." She fidgeted, her underwear still painfully digging into places it shouldn't but unwilling to try and un-floss herself in front of him. "I doubt I can even sit down,"

"Pity." Lips twitched. "That was only supposed to come later." His fingers danced along the suddenly hyper-sensitive skin of her inner knee. His eyes on her face, those fingers skated teasingly upwards, slipping under her dress and smoothing up the backs of her thighs.

Despite her reservations, she inhaled sharply and her hands settled on his shoulders. "You know what I meant."

"Yes. And you know what _I_ meant." His words rumbled against her midsection, making something unfurl inside her further. His hands caged her hips, thumbs pressing lightly into the slight hollows. His fingers stretched and snared the fabric of her underwear. He tugged inexorably down.

Her hands caught his through the dress. "What are you doing?"

"Making you more comfortable."

The question had been rhetorical. She knew exactly what he was doing. She was trying to remind herself it was a no good, very bad idea.

He pulled harder and the already rent lace snapped and fell away. Before she could do more than puff in surprise, he cupped her.

Sarah jerked - a delicious frisson of pleasure coursing through her - as one finger brushed between her slick folds and then boldly pressed into her wet heat. Her hands fluttered and then dug into the tautness of his shoulders.

Jareth groaned as her walls gripped him reflexively. His thumb sought the tiny bundle the nerves, teasing her clit when he found it. Sarah instinctively pressed into him, her breasts against his face. His other hand, which had been holding her still, slid free from underneath her dress and pulled the down. He sucked a breast into his mouth, worrying her nipple with his tongue and teeth through the lace. Sarah suddenly couldn't quite remember why it was a no good, very bad idea. When Jareth slid another finger into her, the new stretch even better, her legs began to shake in earnest and all coherent thoughts fled.

He found the right rhythm, right combination of strokes, until Sarah was embarrassingly near release in no time at all. Normally she'd be impressed. Instead it felt like it was a telling weakness. Of what she wasn't sure.

She made the mistake of glancing down at him. His mouth was exquisitely torturing her sensitive breasts, but his eyes were trained on her face. They were dark. Possessive. Covetous. Hungry.

All deliciously exciting looks.

But also just a little smug. Like he'd ultimately gotten his way in end against her more than reasonable protests that it wasn't the ideal time.

She could heard the sound of his fingers slickly pumping in and out of her. Her own ragged breathing. Beneath was the constant buzz of the party. Her world. It was all too much at once and it made her irrationally angry.

Sarah pulled away and clumsily righted her clothing. Her body screamed in protest at how close it had been.

For a moment Jareth looked shocked by her retreat, and then his look morphed into disappointment. He stood, the evidence of his arousal clear through his pants.

Sarah took an uneasy step back. She wasn't scared of him. Not in that way, just overwhelmed at the strength of her reaction. How much she had wanted him. Like they were magnets that should be kept apart until a more opportune time. And she was also embarrassed by the recent events. Christmas presents. Throwing up on him. By… _everything_.

He misread her expression and his face darkened in anger. "If I'd wanted to force you, I would have long ago. Without the effort of school concerts and the other middle-American mundane. Run away, Sarah. I won't follow." He leaned into her, crowding her just enough, before licking his still glistening fingers clean. "But pretend that didn't happen."

And then he was gone, door unlocked and still swinging open after his exit.

Sarah stared glassily, her body still thrumming in denial. She wondered how she'd managed to fuck it all up without actually getting fu-

Her father poked his head in the now open door. "Oh there you are, sweetie. Come and say good bye to the Cohens."

"Right. Be right there." She ducked into the washroom to splash cool water on her flaming face.

When she opened the bathroom door it was to more relatives collecting their coats. Sarah was hugged and squeezed and generally propelled along back downstairs before she could realize that she still wasn't wearing underwear.

Toby avoided her like the plague. Karen tried very hard not to look uncomfortably aware. She'd be buying bridal mags tomorrow. Sarah wanted to yell that nothing had happened.

Though that wasn't true.

As evidenced by the particular breeze she could feel every time the front door opened and closed.

Sarah scanned the rooms fitfully until she found him. He, by comparison, was completely unfazed. In fact was completely engaged in the conversation with her cousin Julia. Julia-I-lost-my-virginity-way-before-you-Julia. She didn't exactly dislike Julia. She'd just grown up irrationally jealous of her. And though that feeling had long abated, she didn't care for the way Julia kept finding an excuse to touch him while she talked. A pat here, a playful poke there. Did she really just stroke his arm?

Sarah scowled.

"So I guess the next time we see you will be at the wedding, eh?"

"Hmm… what?"

"Don't play coy." Her aunt Kathy hugged Sarah warmly. "And what a catch. Charming man! About time too."

There were more murmurs of weddings, or hints and prods as the evening wore on. Well-meaning but absolutely grating. Even were the relationship real, which it wasn't Sarah reminded herself, they'd ostensibly only been dating since Hallowe'en. Not to mention is was 1999, not 1950.

Her cousin Peter, Julia's brother and always a bit of a prat, made a rather ribald joke hinting at their timely disappearance. Sarah good naturedly laughed along with it and then immediately told a particularly embarrassing story about Peter from when they were children. It contained the infamous song, "Peter, Peter the dog poop eater."

When she found the not-king again he was talking to yet another woman. He apparently hadn't bothered to look for her once, which she only knew because her eyes rarely left him.

Jareth threw back his head laughed at something Emma said.

Sarah snagged Peter's drink and walked away. She was almost immediately accosted by Toby. He dragged her into the kitchen, the space hosting a few guests piling their plates with turkey, and on through into the pantry. He shut the door to the tight alcove and pulled the string for the overhead light.

It was like a bad detective's show interrogation scene.

Toby gave her a stern, probing look.

"I know _him_."

"What?" Sarah took a fortifying sip of the drink and then coughed hoarsely. It was straight vodka.

"I _know_ him. Jareth. I thought I was going crazy or something. But his face was just so familiar. And his voice…. Yesterday when he was singing-" He looked at Sarah earnestly. "I know what I heard. He said something about turning me into a goblin."

Sarah laughed weakly. "He was obviously joking."

"Maybe," Toby nodded. "But not about the goblins I think. I used to get these dreams… still do sometimes. There are… what look like goblins in them. Laughing. Dancing. It's not scary exactly jut weird. I'm a baby. And there's a voice. His voice. With a face that isn't quite right. The eyes…" Toby trailed off. "And then this morning. I looked out the dining room window and I swear I saw two weird looking… things burying a turkey."

Sarah drained the glass.

"Tell me."

The door opened. Toby and Sarah turned. Karen blinked, her lips pursing. She reached past them and snagged a tin of cranberry sauce. She eyed them both pointedly and then shut the door. They could hear her mutter, "I do not understand this family sometimes."

Toby looked at his sister expectantly. "Please, Sarah."

"It's… it's a long story really. One long overdue, kiddo. But can we… do it later though? And preferably not here?" He should probably be there for it anyway. Sarah wasn't sure if that would make things better or worse.

"Tonight," Toby agreed.

* * *

By the time the rest of the guests left, the immediate family was thoroughly spent. Sarah hadn't managed to get Jareth aside to speak to him. Every time she'd neared his orbit they were accosted by well-meaning relatives. Many asked about her career, but most were inclined to know more about them. Together. Jareth managed to appear the epitome of a happy boyfriend. His behaviour was impeccable. Normal. Even dull. Her ad to a T.

The family sat down to a late but casual Christmas supper. It was more tradition than hunger that drove them to it; they'd noshed all afternoon. Crackers were cracked. Paper hats were donned. Bad jokes were shared. Cheap toys scattered to be found and hoarded by Peaches later.

The lull of good food and fine company settled over them - the kind that carries with it a contented exhaustion and the bittersweet realization that Christmas is almost over. And with that an almost desperate need to savour the ebbing hours.

It was marred only by the sense that words left unspoken stood between them.

And there was the dread of speaking to Toby.

Lizzie retired to an early bed. Kisses all round. She looked meaningfully at Jareth before heading up the stairs.

The rest of the family performed a half-hearted clean-up and then collapsed warily in the living room.

Robert, hands folded over a bloated belly he'd begin to worry about in January, noticed a small package still under the tree. "Oh, look, one more for Jareth." He handed it over to the unusually silent Goblin King.

Sarah had completely forgotten about it in the chaos.

It had been a last minute addition of hers on Christmas Eve - a whim, spurred by the magic of Christmas.

Jareth flipped the tag. _To Jareth. Thank you. Really. Sarah_.

He pulled the paper off, thin lips parting in surprise at the contents.

A little red book with letters embossed in gold. "The Labyrinth". Her much worn, dog eared copy.

"A book, how nice," Robert said. You could hear the relief in his voice that it had no lurid illustrations.

Karen, who had been watching them both closely through tired eyes, stood. "Let's go to bed, dear. You too Toby. Or go play some of your new games."

Toby began to protest but whatever he saw in his mother's expression had him silently following. He looked over his shoulder at Sarah.

Jareth opened the cover. Scrawled in pen was an inscription.

"You've been a villain, a hero, and so much more. It's just a silly thing from a silly girl, but what do you get for the Goblin King? Please accept this in memory of both the good and bad and everything in between. It all mattered to me. It still does. I don't need a book to remember. You've been amazing this week and I have to admit I was wrong in many ways. Not in saying the right words so many years ago but in not saying anything since. I hope you'll remember me too. Thank you. Your Sarah."

"My Sarah," Jareth spoke the words carefully, as though mulling the taste of them.

Sarah realized she'd been gripping her dress tightly and released the fistfuls of wool. "It was silly."

"Thank you," he said finally. By the halting way he said it sounded like he would say more. He didn't.

"It's not a trip back in time or to Ireland. Sorry," she said ruefully. "I guess we forgot to set spending limits." A cheap attempt at levity.

"Somehow better than a tasteful cardigan though." There was humour in his tone too.

Sarah snorted softly. They were once again limned only by Christmas lights. "I just… just wanted you to know."

"For when I go back."

Sarah looked up at the slight hitch in his voice.

"It reads like a farewell as well as a thank you."

Sarah fisted her hands into her dress again. "I just thought… Well, yes. You're… the Goblin King," she said helplessly.

"And you've got a life to go back to." He looked around the living room, laden with evidence of the family that lived there. The girl who had grown up there.

They were talking again but the distance between them seemed even further.

Sarah rolled her lip between her teeth. "I want us to part on good terms."

"Because we _will_ part."

The way he said it made Sarah start. "What are you saying? How would this even work? Do you want to be a part of this? This to be your life? When you're the Goblin King?" The truth was he _had_ fit in. Too well in fact.

When he didn't say anything, she stood, not sure if she was upset or angry but needing to move. "Or were you just going to take me away to your castle beyond the Goblin City."

Silence.

And then, "No," he replied softly. Almost too soft to hear. He rose as well. "I wasn't going to do that either."

Somehow that stung. More than it should have.

"That wasn't your price for your services then." She'd meant it as a joke. Something light, though it suddenly felt very heavy indeed.

His expression creased, and she got the strange idea she'd said the absolutely wrong thing.

 _Put on your big girl panties, Sarah_. Since she wasn't wearing any. _You want him. For as long as you can_. _If only for a night._ Before the magic of Christmas faded completely.

Clearly they were pretty bad at talking.

She reached for him - smoothing her hands up his shirt before leaning in to kiss him. Softly. As softly as he'd spoken 'no' - that he had no intention of stealing her away.

When he didn't react, she kissed him harder. More forcefully. Trying anything to get him to make that sound. The one she'd come to crave. And would miss.

Eventually he relented. His mouth softening just enough. His hands slipped round her back to draw her closer.

Sarah still felt like he was holding back. Like it lacked the passion of before. Perhaps he misunderstood again. She dipped her head and nipped his ear. "You know, I'm still not wearing any underwear." She looked over Jareth's shoulder right into the eyes of her brother. "OH COME ON!"

The Goblin Kind turned slightly at her exclamation. His expression read three strikes, you're out kid.

"He knows," Sarah explained. "We owe him an explanation. _I_ owe him one. I promised. Come here, Toby."

Toby reluctantly entered the room and perched on the edge sofa, clearly uncomfortable.

"Are you sure you don't just want me to make him forget again?"

Toby shot them both a startled look.

"No, he deserves the truth." Someone does at least. "He's always known something apparently. I just didn't want to see it."

"There's been a lot lately I didn't want to see," Toby commiserated wryly.

Silence.

And then awkward snorts which stretched into peals of mostly contrite laughter.

"How could he remember though? He was so young."

"I always wondered if he would. It's always stronger if they ate something."

Sarah sputtered. "I'm sorry _ate_ something?"

"It was thirteen hours." Jareth looked completely unrepentant. "Shame on you, Sarah. It would have been cruel to starve a baby."

"Ten hours. You stole three," she corrected by rote.

A brow arched. "Do you really want to argue semantics?"

"Fine you fed him. I just thought that if you something you'd be trapped below forever."

"If that were true, you and I would be having this conversation in my castle, wouldn't we?"

The way he said it, like he was both amused and tempted by the idea made Sarah flush warmly. "Touché."

Toby cleared his voice loudly. "You know, I'd be great if I understood anything you're saying right now."

"Sorry, Tobes." Sarah steeled herself, and then… then she told her brother how it had all begun.

Jareth mostly let her speak uninterrupted, only occasionally adding his own spin where he thought Sarah failed the narrative. Was it the girl who bravely faced the goblin king to win back her brother, or was it the girl who brashly wished him away, changed her mind, and then ruthlessly destroyed an innocent city? Tomato – Tomahto.

Toby's face was blank when they finished, as though he was trying vainly to process it all.

"So wait, you were 15 when this happened and," he turned to the king, "how old were _you_?"

Sarah and Jareth exchanged looks. "That's not the point, Toby."

"No the point is _you_ wished me away."

Sarah nodded, her shoulders hunching in guilt. He would hate her forever.

"And then _you_ stormed a friggin' castle to win me back! How cool is that?"

Jareth rolled his eyes. It was precisely why he dealt in babies not teenagers.

Sarah immediately crossed the room to hug her brother, her vision glossy. "So no hard feelings? You know how much I love you."

"I mean… now that I know I kind of expect a _really_ extra good birthday present this year."

Sarah choked out a laugh.

"And I mean, it's kinda cool that you're dating this like magical Goblin King?"

Her smile faltered.

"Your sappy journals make so much more sense." His eyes brightened. "So if you guys got married, do I get like a title or something?"

"Ah…"

"You have no idea how close you've come to earning a princedom," Jareth replied drily.

"Toby you cannot tell dad or Karen, kay? Promise me."

It was Toby's turn to roll his eyes. "Like they would believe me."

When her brother finally left, apparently satisfied to have his young world turned upside down, Sarah looked relieved. "That somehow went so much better than expected."

Jareth slipped his arms around her waist. "Forget about the ba… teenager and tell me more about how you're not wearing any underwear."

Sarah was suddenly very aware that she still wasn't wearing any, and that he was very slowly, but most definitely, inching her dress up her legs.

"I had wondered," he mused, "but was unable to verify. You have an annoyingly large number of rather boring cousins?"

"Mm, and several in particular seemed rather taken by you."

"Ah, you did notice. I never said they lacked good taste. The problem was that it was almost impossible to focus when I kept wondering if you had anything on under this dress. Especially knowing that I had these in my pocket." He slid out the torn panties and dangled them from two fingers. The same two fingers that had been buried to the hilt inside her.

She affected a cool smirk. "Stealing women's underwear now?"

"Only after trying to have my wicked way with them in their former childhood bedroom. Numerous times I might add." Cool air hit the back of her exposed thighs.

She clucked. "Sounds like every stereotypical male fantasy."

"Perhaps. Though brothers interrupting really puts a damper on things."

Sarah glanced around. "Speaking of that. Perhaps we should move this elsewhere." His fingers skimmed her bare ass and then squeezed. "Why don't you take me away somewhere private and have your wicked way with me."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Another tug at her navel and they were alone before a warm fire. She was both relieved and unbelievably disappointed to see they weren't Underground. It wasn't his bedroom. Or the throne room. Or even up against a stone wall. Places she'd never, scout's honour, thought about having _her_ wicked way with him. These walls were roughhewn wood. A large bed with plush combed wool blankets occupied most of the room. The space was warm, but looking the paned windows a veritable blizzard was raging. Despite it having been rather mild weather that evening.

"Oh, my god. Are we…"

"Cabin in the woods? Snowed in? Roaring fire? Yes. You spoke so fondly of the idea on the drive here."

She made to protest. It was beyond cheesy. It was beyond perfect.

"You talk entirely too much." He kissed her. It wasn't a gentle; his teeth caught at her lips - enough that they would still be swollen the next day.

Her dress was bunched up around her waist. His hands pressing into the hollow of her hips and across the slight swell of stomach.

Sarah tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from the waistband of his pants and then hurriedly undoing it. Half way through buttons scattered loudly across the floor boards.

"You have no respect for my wardrobe," Jareth chuckled, clearly pleased. He dragged the dress over her head and off, and then his hands found her breasts, stroking them appreciatively before tugging the sheer bra down so he could finally use his mouth on her bare skin. Sarah arched up and backwards in his arms to provide better access. He undid the hooks and slid the whole thing away.

Sarah wasted no time and reached for his belt, stroking his length through the pants first. He made a deliciously hoarse noise of encouragement. She slipped her hands inside the open fly and stroked hi fully, gripping and sliding up the shaft. He dipped her suddenly, and for a moment she was falling, until he carefully cushioned her into the thick rug. He shucked his pants off and knelt between her legs, his eyes roving over her fully exposed body. She might have felt the requisite embarrassment of being so exposed. Instead she stretched, arching slightly and relished the slight hitch in his breathing. Hers faltered as well she took in the broad shoulders that tapered to narrow hips. Pale skin stretched over lithe muscles.

Not to mention the evidence of how much he wanted her so very close.

The not-king's eyes were dark, hooded. She could see that his chest rose and fell. But it wasn't right.

He leaned over her, one hand snaking up her thigh, crooking her legs wider.

"Stop."

An almost pained expression of patent disbelief crossed his face.

"No, let me see you. Without the glamour."

Jareth relaxed. Almost immediately his hair lengthened – growing wilder; more inhuman. The markings around his eyes bled into stark relief.

"That's better," she breathed reverently. She reached for him, pulling him down into the cradle of her hips, her lips pressing hotly to his throat.

One of his hands skimmed between her legs, sliding between her slicks fold to again find the spot that made her shiver before. He groaned to find her so wet when he sank fingers inside. He dipped his head to capture her mouth hungrily.

Sarah cupped him, stroking his rigid cock, relishing the feel of velvet sliding over iron. Her other hand carded through his wild hair to cup his neck.

He broke the kiss to mark a path down her chest until he could greedily suck the tips of her aching breasts. His tongue whorled across the sensitive buds; his fingers continuing to torment her. Sarah's breath was little ragged pants. His was no better.

His hips rocked against hers.

She pulled at him to move him up, tilting her hips and hitching her legs closed around him.

He slowed long enough to watch her face as he withdrew his hands. She felt him press into her slightly.

Jareth cupped her jaw, fingers still slick with her arousal pressed into her mouth so that she could taste herself as he slid home in one thrust.

Sarah arched, biting down softly on his thumb as she adjusted to being filled. It was heady to be so stretched and pulled, so that each little movement rocked through her.

Jareth hadn't taken his eyes off her face, his eyes still so dark they were almost black. Predatory. His mouth parted as though in awe. He moved out and then in, hissing as her walls gripped him fully. As they both shifted to find the best fit, Sarah's legs tightened and her ankles locked around his waist. Her arms hooked under his, trying to cage the feeling that was building in her. Trying to cage him too.

She sought his mouth, paying him back with her teeth and tongue. The sound of their bodies moving together, skin against skin, keens and grunts and half wild utterings, and the crackle of fire, contrasted with the steady whine of wind and snow outdoors.

One hand slid between them as they moved, first cupping the column of Sarah throat and then brushing between her breasts to splay across her stomach before finding her clit again. The extra attention completely sent her over the edge and Sarah arched – her nerves firing all at once. Her head fell back and hit the floor hard enough it would leave a dull ache later. Her body went languidly limp for a moment. Jareth hooked one of her legs up, deepening the angle. She watched him breathlessly, her body still on fire, as he followed her. She clutched him, her arms wrapping around is shoulders as though to draw him deeper or steady him as he lost control, his mouth against her neck, lips moving soundlessly against her skin. His body rocked and then stilled, her leg sliding off his shoulder – both of them boneless. He rolled them enough so that they both faced the fire, his body shadowing hers from behind. She could feel him still half hard against her, her thighs sticky, but in no care to do anything about it. Their sweat dampened skin was cooling. He brushed the hair away from her neck and pressed an open mouthed kiss against her pulse. Neither spoke, both dozing to the gentle crackle of the fire.

Sarah woke a short while later. His hand was curled around her breast, a thumb drawing lazy circles that woke her on another level entirely. They moved to the soft bed in a tangle of still aching limbs. This time the made love slower, Jareth still spooned to her back. The position allowed him full access to her front, while her hand bent back to grip his hips as he gently rocked against her.

When next they woke steaks of sunlight cast stripes across their skin. The white sheets were tangled round their legs.

Sarah sat up suddenly. "It's morning!"

"Astute observation as always," drawled the amused voice beside her. Jareth admired the view beside him.

She swatted him. "Everyone will notice we're gone."

"You are remarkably violent. _Or_ they will find a note explaining that we've gone skiing. A romantic little getaway for two."

"I don't ski." She playfully swatted him again.

He caught her wrist. "Neither do I. So perhaps we can find something else to pass the time." He pinned her to the bed, leaning down to kiss her thoroughly. "I so have a few ideas."

She couldn't stop the sheepish smile from spreading. "We can't stay in bed all day."

"Why not? Staying in bed on Boxing Day is a long standing goblin tradition."

Sarah pulled a face. "You're lying."

"Absolutely. But it could become one. I'm the king, after all. I make the traditions."

So they did, until they were both so sore Jareth made a warm bath appear, deep enough for them both to soak in. Food was as easily produced.

"I could get used to this," Sarah breathed later, stretching beneath the sheets.

"Could you?" he asked, his tone deceptively light. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

He also produced Champagne, with a stern warning that he had no more shoes to spare. His laughter turned to groans when she pushed him back and kissed her way down his chest to put her smart mouth to other uses. He paid her back in kind, his hands hitching her legs over her shoulders as she squirmed. Her head craned back. "I love Boxing day!"

It was several hours later, bodies spent and exhausted, that Sarah looked around suspiciously. "Jareth, where are our clothes?"

* * *

As with anything, all good things end.

Christmas gets, stored back into boxes and basements, the magic waning til it is called forth again. They returned the Williams family home. No one was suspicious when Sarah winced every time she sat. "Skiing is hard work," Karen commiserated. "Lots of falls."

The final day flew by in final visits, packing, and goodbyes. Lizzie was delivered to the airport. She hugged each of them tightly, reminding them to go to Church and not fall lazy just because they were Americans. She squeezed Sarah last of all, her lips parting several times as though she wanted to speak but didn't.

Sarah and Jareth took their leave, more hugs and happy tears. Karen made them promise to come back soon. Sarah wondered how she was going to break her heart later. Toby kept winking at them both. Next she feared he'd propose a secret handshake.

They'd had trouble finding Peaches before leaving and when they did, he was chewing on what looked to be a Goblin cap. Sarah stuffed it in her pocket quickly.

The road trip home was strangely quiet by comparison. When they finally pulled into her building, Sarah was feeling emotionally brittle.

She turned the lights on in her dark apartment, dropping keys, dumping the mail on the table. Little things to keep her busy.

Jareth watched her, his body leaned against the entryway wall, arms folded. She fidgeted with the necklace Lizzie had given her round her neck.

"So…" she said finally.

"So. Contract fulfilled."

"More than," her lips twitching in memory.

He dipped his head and kissed her lightly before stepping back again.

"You're leaving now." It was a statement not a question. She could tell from his gait. From his expression. She wasn't prepared for the pang.

"It's time. There are more things to set right from my oversight."

"Creatures to bog." She affected a smile – it wobbled slightly. He was just going to leave apparently. "You could always come back, you know, for another visit."

"When you need another date?"

"Just here. You'd be welcome."

"I know. I can only come above so many times. There are limits. It's… complicated."

Not finding what she needed, she stepped closer. "Or I could come and visit you, maybe," she said softly.

She watched his throat bob, his jaw tightening. But he said nothing.

Sarah's heart dropped. He wasn't going to ask. It was fine. She straightened. "So… thank you then. I had… a really nice Christmas. I'm tired and should probably get some sleep. Work tomorrow."

He stared at her owlishly. A feeling of expectation in the air. Sarah felt like she was reading a book in a language she couldn't understand. _Say your right words. Only she didn't know them._ "Oh payment. Right. You're… waiting for payment."

Jareth's head tilted down, so that she couldn't see his expression. When he looked up again, his face was guarded. "Payment," he repeated. "My price has… been fulfilled. We're even."

Sarah blinked, mouthing an 'oh'. He wanted nothing more from her.

He bent and kissed her softly. She could taste the goodbye on his lips.

And then he was gone.

* * *

December turned to January. Sarah threw herself into her work. Into cleaning. Into running. Into anything but thinking. She was given the promotion at work – which kept her blessedly busy and happy in her way.

In February, he came back for a visit one night. It was made her heart flip. They'd eaten dinner together. The entire time he'd been perfectly behaved if a little distant. Again like he was waiting for something.

In April, tired of deflecting phone calls she drove home again. She explained everything, leaving out key details. There were looks of disappointment. In the end, the air was cleared. She also found the program. The one from his gift that she'd pressed her between pages of her book. Tangible proof it had all happened.

He came again in early summer, Sarah assumed the solstice allowing him passage. She told him all about her work. The campaigns she'd managed. He listened politely but always as though waiting for more.

That night she found the book. He'd evidently returned it. That stung the most.

Late summer her craigslist pinged. She'd put up a search for any PR jobs, linking to pick up new clients.

"PR person wanted to reform wicked monarch's image. Dark haired women aged 20-30 wanted."

Sarah's throat had caught and she quickly answered the ad.

Nope.

Fetish. Middle aged man looking to role play.

Delete, delete, delete.

In fall she received a letter. The post mark was from Ireland. Easily discerning who it was from, Sarah read it idly. Part way through her eyes widened and she gripped it so hard, the stationary wrinkled.

She dug her address book out and looked up Lizzie's number.

When her aunt answered the phone Sarah didn't bother with salutations. "I need to know exactly what you did."

There was a long pause and then a sigh.

"First of all, I am an old meddlesome woman. I'm not making excuses. But mind I wasn't always that way. Once I was young and full and dreams…"

 _Sarah excused herself, wiping her salt-stained face as she dashed upstairs. Jareth watched her go. Lizzie watched Jareth._

" _I know what you are."_

 _The not-king canted his head at the old woman. "I think you've established I'm not a vampire."_

" _Don't get smart with me, my lad."_

 _Jareth laughed. "If you know what I am then you know I am far older than you… child."_

 _Lizzie's eyes narrowed. "Your kind is all the same. You leave my niece alone."_

" _Greeeeeeeat niece," Jareth corrected mockingly. Lizzie looked like she wanted to slap him, but his expression drew serious. "Who was he?"_

 _Lizzie started, her mouth parting as though ready to deny. "How did you know?" she whispered._

" _Let's just say I can tell those touched by magic. Just as those touched by magic aren't easily fooled."_

" _It was a long time ago. I was young and beautiful. She looked at Jareth as though expecting him to doubt her or make a snide comment about the ravages of time._

 _The not-king did neither, merely waiting for her to continue._

" _He was uncannily beautiful too. Much like you I imagine, if you showed your real face. He came at Christmas time as well. Quite swept me off me feet. I…," Lizzie looked down, "he charmed me and we lay together. For months. Back then in, Ireland, that was sorely frowned upon. I couldna bring shame to me family. But he promised to take me away. Give me everything. Said he would come back by next Christmas. Made me such sweet promises."_

" _And then he never came back," Jareth finished._

" _No. He did not. Never again. I waited three Christmases before I knew t'would not be. Grew fearful thin and restless. Turned down many a decent village boy. I'd given meself and thought it were only right. I became a nun for a while, and found peace. I've always loved the church," she said defensively._

 _Jareth said nothing._

" _Don't pity me. I had a good life. A happy one."_

" _So Sarah's told me."_

" _And I love me family," she said sternly, her accent all the thicker. "I don't want you to make promises to her you won't keep."_

" _I've made her no promises."_

 _Lizzie eyed him. "I see the way you look at her. You want her. She wants you too, but there is something I recognize in yer eyes. I know you can't stay here forever."_

 _Jareth nodded._

" _And if you take her with she'll be beholden to the same rules. She won't be able to return. Not permanently."_

 _Another nod. Stiffer._

" _You've considered it."_

 _Jareth's eyes flickered tellingly, but he didn't say anything._

" _I can see. I won't interfere. Yer both adults and times are different."_

 _A brow arched._

" _But don't make her believe more. Don't use honeyed words to sway her." Lizzie caught something in his expression. "Ah, I see. You've tried before. And it did not work. Perhaps Sarah is might wiser than I was. Ceard a bheadh suil agat cloisteail o mhuic ach gnusacht." Lizzie sighed. "Perhaps yer... not like him. You came back for one." A short laugh followed, tempered by the years. "I don't think ye know what you do to us. No… ye probably do know. Please let her make her own decision. Whatever it may be. Do not tempt her by more. Not until she speaks of her feelings first."_

 _Jareth's face betrayed nothing. Neither anger nor agreement._

" _I'm owed this request. I ask during yule."_

 _For a moment Jareth looked every bit the Goblin King. Enough that Lizzie took a halting step back. "Ag tarraingt an diabhail de ghreim eireabaill."_

 _But Lizzie swallowed, her spine straightening. "You'll never know if you she really wants you otherwise. And I suspect that actually matters to you… otherwise what is all this."_

 _Jareth stared at her, Lizzie's cloudy eyes just as fierce as his. "By Yule's light."_

When Lizzie finished speaking Sarah swallowed thickly. "Why did you write me? Why tell me now."

Silence on the other end. "Because he's apparently kept his promise. And honestly I thought ye might have chosen him. But you didn't. And I wanted to make sure."

"But I…" Her mind played over their last encounters. There had been so much said without words. So much more unspoken, she supposed. She replayed his expressions, the way he always seemed about to say something but hadn't. How he'd watched her. Hungry. Waiting.

But she'd also been waiting on him to say something. To ask for more. Which, in hindsight, perhaps had been foolish of her considering their history. Waiting for him to chase her. But he hadn't because he'd promised.

Or because he didn't want to…

"Perhaps he changed his mind. Got what he wanted and didn't look back." It was what she'd once been planning.

"You know better than I do. But he went to awful trouble to show you he could play by your rules. Do what makes you happy, Sarah."

Sarah paced, chewing her lip. "He hasn't reached out though. Not for a long while."

"Perhaps he's protecting himself too."

"I…need to think. Thank you. For telling me."

Sarah hung up the phone. Her emotions were roiling. She stood in her living room, hugging her arms round herself until her eyes lit on the book he returned. She opened the cover. Beneath her inscription, he'd written, "To always find your right words."

A few days later her Craigslist pinged. She'd had it set to inform her of any new opportunities.

That night she dreamt they were back at New Grange. Sarah looked up at the sky, watching the stars streak across the horizon as time moved back into place.

Sarah rocked up in bed.

' _I move the stars for no one.'_

 _Until you did_.

Her face broke into a grin.

* * *

As fall turned to winter, Sarah finalized her plans. By the first snows, she took an indefinite leave of absence from her job and put her condo on the market. She asked her parents to watch Peaches for a while. Told them she was seeking a new opportunity abroad.

She hugged and kissed them all at the airport, only Toby suspecting more behind her words.

Lizzie met her on the other side of the ocean. Very early the next morning, Lizzie served her a bracing cup of tea. "Are you sure about this?"

Sarah smiled to herself, thinking of everything she'd done in the last few months. "Too late now. Did you get it?"

Lizzie scoffed. "Did I get it? Of course I got it!" She passed a ticket over to Sarah. "One of me old students from school works the lottery. Billy is still afraid of me." She sounded pleased.

Sarah touched the ticket. _New Grange Winter Solstice_.

The next morning, while it was still dark, Lizzie drove her to the site. It was only about 40 minutes from where Lizzie lived. It only took Lizzie 20. Sarah was sure they were going to die at least three times.

"Get off the road, ye feckin' eejit," she yelled at a sheep. It bleated back at her.

Lizzie hugged her in the parking lot. "If ye change yer mind, I'll be waiting here. For a little while." She checked her watch. "Me shows start in about an hour. So I'll wait at least say ten minutes."

Sarah felt her nerves dancing. "Do _you_ think I should do this?"

"Nuair a bheas an t-ull aibi titfidh se."

Sarah blinked at her.

"You know yer own mind. Yer own heart."

Sarah nodded and began walking towards the mound.

"He does have a lovely bum, Sarah," Lizzie called.

Sarah smiled without looking back.

Standing with the other tourists, most with their cameras out, Sarah felt like an imposter. As with the year before, the sun, first breaking the horizon, began to creep along the path. Sarah squinted but could see nothing. There was no crystal, nothing to indicate he was there. Sarah reminded herself that he'd mentioned numerous sites to perform the rituals.

When the sun illuminated the tomb, casting the whole thing into warm relief, Sarah took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and touched the spirals.

"Please, miss, as we explained in orientation, please refrain from touched the carvings. Americans."

Sarah ignored the frazzled sounding guide and opened her eyes. She was alone. She turned in all directions. The spirals glowed gold. Before her, in the centre of the tomb lay the Labyrinth.

Sarah turned, her world behind her, and then forward again to the world beyond. "Come on feet."

As soon as she passed through, the brief sensation of falling robbing her breath, hands wrapped around her. Sarah looked up into the eyes of the Goblin King.

For a moment they merely stared at one another. Jareth cupped her face, Sarah's hand covering his. "You found the right words."

"Through dangers untold – namely Lizzie's driving – I have fought my way here," Sarah whispered with a smile, "to answer an ad for a Goblin King looking to reform his public image."

Jareth stroked her cheek. "That was mostly a ploy to get you here. I rather like my image as is. And I'd hate to give up the boggings."

She leaned into the touch. "Yes. I think Lizzie would consider the ad and the book cheating." She pulled the tone free to his inscription.

"Semantics. I can only curb my wicked nature so much. You have no idea hard it's been to be _good_."

Sarah eye's widened. "And I _knew_ the ad was you!"

"The words?"

"I'll want Peaches here."

Jareth smiled wickedly. "I will hand feed you as many as you like."

"I meant I'll my cat."

"Excellent. I'll hand feed goblins to him."

Sarah laughed. "I'll still want to spend as time with my family whenever possible. You don't have to come. No more concerts and malls."

"You stupid girl," he teased. "I assumed that would be stipulated. Why else did I try so hard to show that I could play nice with mortals?"

"I thought that was to get into my pants?"

"Oh absolutely."

She kissed him. Because she could. Whenever she wanted. Wherever she wanted. "Speaking of getting into pants…"

"I suppose you'll have to meet my family," Jareth mused. "We have our own Yule traditions."

Pants were instantly forgotten. Sarah hadn't quite considered when she'd initiated this mad caper that he had family too. Ones she might have to meet.

"Enough about them for now. I'm still waiting for those right words. Time is short."

Sarah feigned innocence. "You mean that I love you?"

Jareth kissed her roughly, his arms almost too tight around her and yet just right because it felt like he wouldn't let her go.

She eventually pulled back enough to breathe again. "Well? Don't pull a Han Solo on me!"

"I will likely never understand some of the things you say," he shook his head. When she continued to frown, he leaned down and whispered against her ear, amusement and something else entirely lacing his tone, "Oh, Sarah, we both already know the Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl. Merry Christmas."

* * *

 **The End**

 **AN:** That's all folks!

I hope you've enjoyed this mishmash of fluff, humour, SO MANY TROPES, smut and shenanigans. It's like the junk lady of fics.

It's been a treat to write. Your reviews have been dear and appreciated. With many of them making me laugh outright. You all rock. It touched me that some of you didn't want it to end, but it feels right for this fic to end it here. Time to get back to working on something that rhymes with Shmangled Shmood :)

 **Irish Translations:**

Lizzie: Ceard a bheadh suil agat cloisteail o mhuic ach gnusacht. What could you expect from a dog but a bite.

Jareth: Ag tarraingt an diabhail de ghreim eireabaill Never pull the devil by the tail

Lizzie : Nuair a bheas an t-ull aibi titfidh se – When the apple is ripe it will fall.


End file.
